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LILIAS  BIRTHDAY. 
(Frontispiece.) 


BLIND    LILIAS; 


.  OE, 


FELLOWSHIP    WITH    GOD, 


i$x  liie  '^$ 


B  Y 

A    LADY. 


NEW    YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

No.    530    BROADWAY. 

1861. 


BTEKEOTTPED     BY  PRINTED    BY 

SMITH     a     McDOUGAL,  E.     O.     JENKINS, 

84  Beekman-st. ,  N.  Y.  28  Frankf ort-st. 


3331 
A6L14 


INTRODUCTION, 


EEV.     CHARLES    B.     TAYLER. 


fV<^HEREUNTO  shall  I  liken  the  kmgdom  of  God?" 
^  said  that  Divine  and  Adorable  Redeemer,  who 
spake  as  never  man  spake,  and  whose  every 
word  is  with  authority  and  power.  "  It  is  like  leaven, 
which  a  woman  took,  and  hid  in  three  nieasm-es  of  meal, 
till  the  whole  was  leavened."  There  is  a  force  and  ful- 
ness in  this  short  parable,  which  commends  itself  to 
every  man's  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  proving 
to  UP,  with  adniirabl(!  plainness,  the  reality  of  vital  re- 
ligion. Our  blessed  Lord  addresses  His  searching,  but 
quiet  appeal,  to  every  one  of  His  professed  disciples, 
from  the  most  richly  endowed  to  the  least  gifted  among 
us.  He  applies  the  same  test,  He  demands  the  same 
proof.  He  is  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  the  same  re- 
sponse from  every  conscience  and  every  heart.  He  gra- 
ciously teaches  us  that  something  more,  nay  much  more, 


fi2'2643 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

than  an  accurate  acquaintance  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Word  of  Grod  is  required  in  the  children  of  the  king- 
dom ;  not  merely  the  knowledge  of  Divine  truth  in  the 
head,  but  the  tiansforming  power  of  a  new  and  quicken- 
ing principle  of  Divine  life  in  the  heart — a  spiritual  lea- 
ven pervading  and  permeating  the  whole  inward  man, 
transmuting  and  renewing,  by  its  inworking  and  sancti- 
fying influence,  the  thoughts,  feelings,  imaginations,  affec- 
tions, words,  and  actions,  till  the  whole  is  leavened. 

In  the  simple  and  beautiful  narrative  now  presented 
to  the  reader,  a  female  hand  has  taken  the  leaven  of 
heavenly  principles,  with  the  full  acknowledgment  of  an 
humble  and  prayerful  dependence  upon  that  Divine  hand 
which  can  alone  impart  a  quickening  influence  to  the 
appointed  means,  and  shown  us  what,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  will  be  the  effect  produced  upon  the  character  and 
conduct  of  a  child.  With  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  and  a  charming  naturalness,  she  has 
brought  before  us  the  life-like  portraiture  of  a  young  and 
ingenuous  girl,  affectionate,  impressible,  and  impulsive, 
but  wayward  and  self-willed,  full  of  warm  and  generous 
feehngs,  but  perverse,  proud,  and  passionate,  with  a  mind 
of  superior  power,  and  great  intelligence,  but  headstrong 
and  impatient  of  control, — a  character  needing  the  severe 
chastening,  with  wliich  in  the  providence  of  God  she  is 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

visited,  to  prepare  her  heart  to  receive  the  heavenly 
leaven.     Such  a  preparation  is  needed.     The  leaven  is 
put  into  the  meal, — not  among  the  corn,  till  it  has  been 
brought  under  the  crushing  and  grinding  power  of  the 
millstones — for  "leaven  among  unground  corn  does  not 
work  " — the  corn  must  first  be  ground,  and  the  grinding 
of  the  corn  is  the  previous  and  necessary  discipline  pre- 
paring the  heart  for  the  leaven.     In  the  progress  of  the 
touching  account  of  the  discipline  to   which  this  inter- 
esting child  is  subjected,  we  behold  the  working  of  that 
continued  discipline  and  the  working  of  the  inward  lea- 
ven going  on  together,  till,  by  degrees,  the  resistance  of 
the  natural  and  carnal  mind  is  subdued,  and  the  chasten- 
ing, which   at  first  seemed   grievous   and   not  joyous, 
yields  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness  to  her  who  is 
exercised  thereby ;  gradually  the  perverse  will  is  over- 
come, the  old  corrupt  nature  renewed,  and  the  youthful 
sufierer  is  made  a  partaker  of  the  Divine  nature ;  and 
thus  the  kingdom  of  God,  which  is  righteousness  and 
peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Grhost,  by  the  inworking  in- 
fluence of  the  heavenly  leaven,  established  within.     The 
child  of  nature  becomes  the  child  of  grace  and  walks  in 
fellowship  with  God. 

Such  appears  to  me  to  be  the  plan  in  the  mind  of  the 
writer  of  the  following  pages,  and   tlio  lively,  graphic. 


INTRODUCTION. 


and  touching  narrative,  is  the  admirable  illustration  of 
that  plan.  I  would  heartily  recommend  this  little 
volume  not  only  to  young,  but  to  grown-up  readers. 
We  may  all  profit  by  it. 


Charles  B.  Tatler. 


Otley  Bkotokt,  Ipswich, 
Jan.  1, 1859. 


CONTENTS. 

OHAPTBE  PAGE 

I. — COOMBHURST   GRANGE 9 

II. — The  Hope  Family 14 

III. — LiLiAs'  Birthday 20 

IV. — Pride  and  Passion 30 

V. — The  Little  Mimic 41 

VI. — The  Father's  Reproof 57 

VIL— The  Broken  Vase G4 

VIII. — LiLiAS  Stricken 17 

TX. — Cherished  Grief 88 

X. — Newj  Faces 97 

XI. — Taking  up  the  Cross 106 

XII. — Self-Confidence 115 

XIII.— Pride  Subdued 121 

XrV.— The  Dormer  Family 130 

XV. — Friendships  Est.4BLISHEd 141 

XVI. — A  Sudden  Outbreak 151 

XVII. — Anger  and  its  Effects 163 

XVIII.— Penitence 175 

XIX — Maud's  Victory 185 

XX. — Healthful  Pleasures 196 


Vni  COKTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

XXI.— A  Friend  in  Need 209 

XXII. — Eveeard's  Arrival 224 

XXIII. — Sanctified  Affliction 239 

XXIV.— The  School  Festival 251 

XXV. — Sadness  and  Sympathy 266 

XXVI. — Grandpa  Phaser's  Story 274 

XXVII.— Trials  Ahead 289 

XXVIII. — Ambition  Corrected 301 

XXIX. — III  Temper  Overcome  312 

XXX.— Separation 317 

XXXI. — Mental  and  Spiritual  Vision. 326 

XXXII. — Mr.  Gambibr's  Return 333 

XXXIII. — The  Anticipated  Parting 342 

XXXIV.— A  Heavier  Trial 349 

XXXV. — Lilias  the  Nurse  and  Comfoetee 362 

XXXVI. — Pleasure  in  New  Duties. 368 

XXXVIL— Family  Changes 374 

XXXVIIL— The  Visit  to  Mabel 384 

XXXIX.— The  Sad  Return 392 

XL. — Lilias  again  the  Nurse 400 

XLI. — OONOLUSION 405 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


COOMBHUPxST  GRANGE. 

T  is  always  agreeable  to  be  well  acquainted 
with  a  neighborhood  in  which  our  friends 
have  taken  up  their  residence ;  to  be  able  to 
picture  to  ourselves  the  pleasant  country  scenes,  or 
peopled  streets  and  squares,  amidst  which  they 
move  ;  and,  in  imagination,  if  not  in  reality,  to  share 
the  sights  and  sounds  which  occupy  and  interest 
those  whom  we  love. 

In  real  life  we  therefore  make  a  point  of  visiting 
our  friends  in  their  own  homes ;  and  with  the  view 
of  keeping  up  the  impressions  we  have  received, 
we  carry  away  with  us  sketches  of  their  homes,  and, 
if  possible,  of  the  landscape  or  principal  buildings 
by  which  they  are  surrounded.  But  in  books  we 
cannot  thus  realize  the  objects  which  encompass  the 
homes  of  those  to  whom  we  are  introduced;  and 
who  for  the  time  being  become  to  us  as  friends,  and 
draw  out  our  affections  and  sympathies  towards 


10  BLIND    LILIAS. 

them,  with  a  power  more  or  less  strong,  as  their 
characters  and  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are 
placed  are  more  or  less  life-like,  and  more  or  less 
accordant  with  our  own. 

In  books,  therefore,  it  is  necessary  to  construct 
"word-pictures"  of  the  scenes  to  which  we  would 
introduce  our  readers,  and  we  must  consequently 
draw  their  attention  to  places  before  we  bring 
persons  before  them. 

There  is  on  the  south-western  part  of  Devonshire 
a  most  beautiful  tract  of  country,  varied  by  hill 
and  valley,  coombe  and  dale,  and  studded  with 
orchards  and  pasture  lands.  Its  finely  undulating 
scenery  is  richly  wooded,  and  rather  thickly  set 
with  the  pleasant  and  comfortable-looking  homes 
of  country  gentlemen,  interspersed  with  those  even 
more  comfortable-looking  dwellings,  the  homesteads 
of  our  English  farmers  and  yeomen. 

Along  the  southern  coast  of  this  most  delectable 
land,  has  of  late  years  been  constructed  a  railroad, 
and  oh,  how  exquisitely  lovely  is  the  scenery  of 
which  it  affords  a  prospect  to  the  delighted  traveller ! 
Passing  from  the  rich  inland  country  that  borders 
the  river  Exe,  he  is  almost  startled  by  the  sudden- 
ness with  which  a  magnificent  view  of  the  broad 
blue  sea,  with  al!  its  thousand  glories,  opens  on  him. 


COOMBHUKST    GRANGE.  11 

If  it  is  a  bright  day  and  the  time  of  high  water,  the 
scene  is  indeed  most  lovely.  To  the  right,  the 
pretty  town  of  Exmouth  clusters  on  a  hill,  at  the 
opposite  side  of  the  mouth  of  the  river,  along  the 
margin  of  which  the  road  has  been  winding.  Tho, 
red  sandstone  cliffs  which  extend  from  there  to  near 
Sidmouth,  and  then  the  white  ones,  which  com- 
mencing there  continue  on  to  Lyme  Regis,  and 
beyond  it  to  the  east,  are  all  in  view  ;  whilst  west- 
ward, stretches  out  that  exquisite  line  of  coast 
which  includes  Dawlish,  Teignmouth,  and  Babbi- 
combe,  with  all  their  lovely  coves  and  little  bays, 
the  shores  of  which  arc  richly  wooded,  even  to  the 
water's  edge.  The  two  promontories,  Hope's  Nose 
and  Berry  Head,  which  form  the  extremities  of 
Torbay,  terminate  the  landscape. 

The  railroad  runs  in  some  parts  so  near  the  sea, 
that,  in  windy  or  stormy  weather,  the  spray  dashes 
against  the  windows  of  the  carriages,  and  in  a  fine 
day  the  sea  birds  hover  above  the  water,  or  dive 
under,  and  rise,  and  float,  and  dive  again,  close  in 
sight ;  and  the  little  pleasure  boats  and  fishing  skiffs 
skim  about  hither  and  thither ;  and  the  charmed 
traveller  thinks  that  he  never  beheld  so  fair  a  view, 
or  so  enjoyed  a  railroad  trip,  when.  Heigh  Presto  ! 
the  whole  is  gone,  :ind  he  finds   himself  in  uttrr 


12  BLIND    LILIAS. 

darkness !  He  has  dived  into  a  tunnel,  and  when 
he  again  emerges  from  it  he  finds  an  entirely  new 
view  of  rock,  and  cliff,  and  sea.  Again  he  is  de- 
lighted, and  again  the  fair  vision  has  fled,  and  dark- 
ness and  chill  vapors  alone  surround  him. 

This  is  the  case  no  less  than  seven  times  within 
about  as  many  miles,  and  every  time  that  he 
emerges  from  a  tunnel,  a  new,  but  each  time  equally 
lovely  scene  of  rock,  and  cliff,  and  sea,  and  ships, 
like  the  sudden  changes  in  the  dissolving  views, 
awaits  him. 

And  now,  leaving  the  coast,  and  turning  from 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  sea,  we  pass 
on  through  a  fair  inland  scene,  in  sight  of  happy 
villages,  and  hamlets,  and  pretty  old  stone  churches, 
encircled  by  the  quiet  resting-places  of  the  dead, 
and  at  last,  through  an  avenue  of  stately  trees,  as- 
cend, by  a  hilly  road  which  leads  through  a  park- 
like  ground  studded  with  varied  forest  trees,  to  a 
house.  It  is  Coombhurst  Grange,  the  home  to 
which  I  would  introduce  my  readers.  Singular  and 
interesting  is  the  appearance  of  the  house.  It  is 
square  and  large,  built  of  rather  dark  stone,  and 
with  three  gables  on  each  side.  On  two  of  the 
fronts  are  large  projecting  stone  porches,  and  over 
that  which  faces  the  south  is  a  room,  with  a  deep 


COOMBHURST    GRANGE.  18 

oriel  window,  decorated  with  richly  carved  mullions 
and  tracery  work  in  stone. 

All  the  windows  are  casements,  and  all  set  in 
highly  ornamental  stone  work,  but  the  oriel,  which 
belongs  to  a  noble  old  drawing-room,  fitted  up  with 
carved  oak  wainscoting  and  ceiling,  is  far  more 
beautiful  and  elaborate  in  its  design  than  the  rest. 

All  the  lower  part  of  this  house  is  lightly  covered 
with  flowering  plants  of  all  hues  ;  and  there  are 
innumerable  rooks  cawing  overhead  and  winging 
their  way  to  their  rookery  for  the  night ;  and  we 
hear  the  sound  of  the  deep  rolling  sea,  although  we 
cannot  see  it.  Such  are  the  externals  of  the  house. 
2 


II. 

THE  HOPS  FAMILY. 

^A  T  the  period  at  which  our  story  commences, 
^W  the  house  that  I  have  described  was  occupied 
by  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Hope.  He 
was  of  Scotch  extraction,  and  had  been  educated 
for  the  Scottish  bar ;  but  the  health  of  his  wife 
having  required  a  milder  climate  than  that  of  her 
native  land,  he  had  thrown  up  his  profession,  sold 
his  Scotch  estates,  and  travelled  for  a  time  in  Italy 
and  the  south  of  France.  On  returning  to  England, 
the  mild  climate  of  Devonshire,  which  was  found 
exactly  to  suit  Mrs.  Hope's  state  of  health,  induced 
him  to  settle  there,  and  he  therefore  purchased  the 
house  and  grounds  called  Coombhurst  Grange. 

For  two  or  three  years  after  their  settlement  in 
Devonshire,  Mrs.  Hope's  health  continued  to  im- 
prove ;  and  her  husband  and  children,  associated 
with  the  beloved  wife  and  mother  amidst  scenes  of 
such  beauty  and  in  so  genial  a  clime,  seemed  al- 
most to  forget  the  insidious  nature  of  the  disease, 
which  had  banished  her  from  their  northern  home. 


THE    HOPE    FAMILY.  15 

But  that  disease,  though  kept  in  abeyance  for  a 
time,  had  taken  too  strong  a  hold  of  her  constitu- 
tion to  be  eradicated,  and  after  giving  birth  to  her 
seventh  child,  the  little  Lilias  who  is  to  be  the  chief 
personage  in  our  tale,  she  died.  She  was  a  true 
Christian,  and  had  long  felt  that  this  was  not  her 
rest,  and  before  she  was  removed  to  her  better 
home,  she  had  received  the  blessed  assurance  that 
the  long  chastening  which  her  illness  had  proved  to 
her  beloved  husband,  had  been  blessed  to  him,  and 
that  she  left  her  children  in  the  hands  of  one  who 
would  labor  w^ith  faithful  prayer  to  bring  them  to 
the  Saviour  who  had  proved  Himself  to  her  "  a 
faithful  deliverer." 

Of  the  seven  children  whom  she  loft,  four  were 
sons,  and  three  daughters.  Nugent,  the  eldest,  was, 
at  the  time  of  the  commencement  of  our  story, 
passing  through  his  academical  course  at  Oxford  ; 
Everard  was  with  a  tutor,  preparing  to  join  his 
brother  at  the  university  ;  and  Vernon  and  Ed- 
ward, two  fine  boys  twelve  and  ten  years  old, 
were  at  Eton.  Of  the  girls,  Maud  was  the  eldest ; 
she  was  about  seventeen,  and  her  sister  Mabel  some 
two  years  younger,  and  Lilias  was  nearly  nine. 
All  three  girls  were  living  at  home,  the  two  elder 
under  the  care  of  a  lady  who  had  been  their  gover- 


16  BLIND    LILIAS. 

ness  from  childhood,  and  carrying  on  their  studies 
partly  under  her  guidance  and  partly  under  their 
father's;  whilst  the  little  Lilias  acted  the  part  of 
pet,  playmate,  and  pupil  to  each  in  turn,  and  stood 
as  fair  a  chance  of  being  spoiled  as  any  little  lady 
need  wish  to  do. 

Maud  was  tall,  fair,  and  graceful — much  like  her 
mother  in  person,  and,  like  her,  richly  gifted  in  taste 
and  intellect.  She  was  an  artist  by  nature,  and  her 
powers  had  been  highly  cultivated  by  her  father, 
from  whom  she  inherited  the  taste  for  drawing  ;  but 
music  was  her  greatest  gift.  The  very  spirit  of 
harmony  seemed  to  dwell  in  her,  and  the  rich,  full 
tones  of  her  voice,  combined  with  a  peculiarly 
chaste  and  delicate  taste,  gave  great  charms  to  her 
singing. 

Maud  and  Mabel,  though  as  closely  united  in 
sisterly  affection  as  it  was  possible  for  two  girls  to 
be,  and  inseparable  companions,  differed  as  materi- 
ally in  character  as  in  person.  The  elder  was  of  a 
grave,  rather  reserved,  and  very  thoughtful  turn  of 
mind,  and  possessed  strong,  though  usually  well- 
controlled  feelings.  She  was  devoted  to  her  father ; 
and  the  early  death  of  her  mother  having  made  her 
more  closely  his  companion  than  she  otherwise 
would  have  been,  and  devolved  on  her  cares  and 


THE    HOPE    FAMILY.  17 

duties  which  do  not  usually  occupy  one  so  young, 
she  had  become  more  matured  in  mind  and  charac- 
ter than  is  usual  with  girls  of  her  age. 

Mabel,  on  the  contrary,  was,  both  in  appearance 
and  manners,  younger  than  might  be  expected  at 
near  sixteen,  Maud's  judgment  was  sound  and 
good,  but  she  was  rather  diffident  and  afraid  to  act 
on  it ;  whilst  Mabel  was  ready  in  decision  and  rapid 
in  action ;  but,  as  is  often  the  case  with  those  of 
quick  and  eager  temperament,  she  not  unfrequently 
formed  hasty  judgments  and  took  rash  steps,  and 
so  got  into  difficulties  from  which  her  sister  was 
called  on  to  extricate  her.  She  was  frank  and  joy- 
ous in  spirit,  "  what  her  heart  thought  her  tongue 
spoke,"  and  the  pleasant  musical  voice  in  which  she 
gave  utterance  to  the  thoughts  of  her  merry  heart 
added  to  the  attraction  which  her  cheerful  spirits 
and  lively  manner  gave  to  her.  Always  vehement 
and  energetic,  a  new  object  was  sure  to  occupy  all 
Mabel's  thoughts,  whether  sleeping  or  waking ;  nor 
could  she  rest  until,  by  talking  or  acting,  she  had 
given  full  scope  to  her  imagination,  and  thrown  off 
some  of  its  first  impetus. 

Both  sisters  were  alike  good  and  dutiful  to  their 
father ;  but  the  extreme  impressibility  of  character 
of  the  latter,  and  the  calm  thoughtfulness  which 
2* 


18  BLIND    LILIAS. 

distinguished  the  former,  contrasted  strongly,  and 
seemed  to  place  a  greater  distance  between  the 
sisters  than  the  two  years  of  age  which  separated 
them  ;  and  Maud  consequently  exercised  an  influence 
over  her  eager  and  excitable  young  companion  more 
like  that  of  a  mother  than  of  a  sister. 

Lilias,  as  we  have  inferred,  held  almost  too  promi- 
nent a  place  in  the  family.  Left,  when  a  few  weeks 
old,  to  the  sole  guardianship  of  the  widowed  father, 
she  had  been  considered  by  him  as  a  peculiar 
charge  ;  and  as  she  had  been  given  to  him  just  at 
the  time  when  his  heart  first  turned  unreservedly 
to  Christ,  and  had  begun  to  realize  the  joy  of  fel- 
lowship with  Him,  he  had  specially  devoted  himself 
to  the  task  of  bringing  up  this  little  one.  His  elder 
children  Jiad  enjoyed  the  high  privilege  of  their 
mother's  teaching,  but  Lilias  had  none  but  himself; 
and,  therefore,  though  in  truth  without  showing  any 
undue  partiality  to  his  infant  child,  he  certainly  de- 
voted himself  to  her  with  such  anxiety  and  watch- 
fulness as  was  not  unlikely  to  lead  her  to  think 
herself  of  too  much  importance. 

Her  elder  sisters  also,  and  her  brothers  when  at 
home,  made  so  much  of  her,  and  were  so  apt  to 
contend  which  should  lead  her  in  their  walks,  and 
play  with  her  at  home — laughingly  to  dispute  for 


THE    HOPE    FAMILY.  19 

her  kisses,  and  vie  with  each  other  in  indulging  her 
every  wish — that  their  father,  who  was  not  blinded 
to  the  danger  she  was  in,  was  often  obliged  to  check 
their  unwise  indulgence  of  the  little  pet,  and  even 
seriously  reprove  them  for  spoiling  her. 

The  poor  child  was  certainly  in  a  very  dangerous 
position.  Pretty,  talented  in  no  common  degree, 
and  at  the  same  time  highly  sensitive  of  praise,  fond 
of  admiration,  and  vehemently  passionate,  it  seemed 
but  too  probable  that  Lilias  would  become  conceited 
and  self-willed,  and  Mr.  Hope,  though  aware  of  the 
danger,  found  it  a  sonuwliat  difficult  task  properly 
to  restrain  one  who  was  so  beloved  and  petted  by 
all.  He  was,  however,  strongly  convinced  of  the 
extreme  importance  to  them  all  that  she  should  be 
kept  in  her  right  place  in  the  flimily,  and  he  was 
earnest  in  his  determination  to  do  so.  Thus,  in 
consequence  of  this  wise  control,  the  little  girl, 
though  at  all  times  in  some  peril,  had  hitherto 
escaped  becoming  that  most  disagreeable  thing,  a 
spoiled  child,  and  though  often  taking  liberties  with 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  not  unfrequently 
breaking  out  into  uncontrolled  fits  of  passion,  she 
was,  on  the  whole,  a  tolerably  good  child. 


III. 

UUAS'  BIRTHDAY. 

fHE  21st  of  July  was  Lily's  birthday;  and  on 
the  day  on  which  she  would  complete  her 
ninth  year,  according  to  annual  custom,  a 
party  of  young  friends  from  the  neighborhood  was 
to  assemble  at  the  Grange,  to  spend  a  long  day ; 
and  three  or  four,  who  came  from  a  considerable 
distance,  were  to  sleep,  and  stay  for  a  few  days. 
The  boys  were  at  home,  but  the  elder  brothers  were 
enjoying  a  trip  into  Scotland,  and  Miss  Colville, 
the  girls'  governess,  was  absent  on  a  visit  to  her 
relations,  and  in  consequence  the  whole  party  were 
enjoying  a  season  of  holiday.  Lilias,  at  all  times 
a  most  excitable  child,  was  wild  with  delight  for 
days  before  the  expected  festival.  Every  toy  was 
pulled  out,  and  underwent  a  thorough  cleansing, 
and  papa  was  called  on  to  heat  his  glue-pot,  and 
stick  heads  and  tails,  legs  and  arms,  on  all  the  frac- 
tured animals  that  could  be  rummaged  out  of  their 
retreat,  and  nurse  to  put  all  the  dolls'  garments 
into  a  wearable  state.     It  was  a  busy  time  indeed 


LILIAS'    BIRTHDAY.  21 

in  the  nursery.  What  with  washing  and  ironing 
frocks,  re-dressing  babies,  and  grooming  donkeys 
and  horses,  Lily  and  nurse  seemed  to  have  enough 
to  do.  Lily  was  scarcely  considered  now  as  a  nur- 
sery child ;  indeed,  the  name  of  "  nursery  "  began 
to  yield  to  that  of  "play-room,"  and  the  little  girl 
rather  made  a  point  of  its  being  called  so.  On  this 
occasion,  however,  she  was  too  busy  to  care  about 
names !  The  idea  of  playfellows  was  enchantment 
to  her,  and  to  have  several  for  days  together,  and 
to  be  herself  the  queen  of  the  entertainment,  was 
more  than  delightful ;  for  Lilias,  like  many  older 
people,  always  liked  to  be  first  and  most  important. 
In  two  of  the  large  fields  belonging  to  the  Grange, 
the  hay  was  not  as  yet  carried,  but  lay  in  long 
ridges,  and  on  the  birthday  all  the  little  ones  were 
to  participate  in  the  joy  of  helping,  or  pretending 
to  help,  to  make  it  into  ricks,  which  were  to  be 
placed  as  usual  in  the  corner  of  the  field  nearest 
the  house.  When  these  ricks  were  completed,  Mr. 
Hope's  hay  harvest  would  be  finished,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  the  harvest  supper  should  be  one  of 
the  pleasures  of  the  birthday  ;  and,  in  consequence, 
all  hands  were  at  work  from  dawn  on  the  21st, 
scattering  the  sweet  half-made  hay  abroad  in  the 
sunshine  with  their  prongs,  to  complete  the  process 


22  BLIND    LILIAS. 

of  drying,  and  raking,  and  tossing,  and  raking  again. 
It  was  a  lovely  morning,  and  the  boys  were  out 
before  breakfast  with  their  picks  and  rakes,  well 
pleased  to  help  in  the  work,  and  as  Lily  looked 
from  her  window,  before  she  went  to  her  papa's 
room  for  her  morning's  reading,  she  was  delighted  to 
see  the  busy  men  and  women  at  their  pleasant  labor. 
Vernon  and  Edward  saw  her  at  the  open  window, 
and  tossing  their  hats  into  the  air,  scampered  to- 
wards the  house  to  offer  her  their  birthday  greetings. 
Then  Lily  went  to  her  father,  and  received  his  lov- 
ing kiss  and  a  few  words  of  affectionate  advice,  re- 
minding her  that  birthdays  were  not  to  be  thought 
of  only  as  days  of  special  amusement  and  pleasure, 
but  that  they  are  like  the  milestones  that  mark  the 
progress  we  have  made  on  our  way  through  life,  and 
that  we  should  think  seriously  at  such  times,  whether 
we  have  gained  ground  in  spiritual  things,  whether 
we  are  growing  in  love  to  God  and  obedience  to 
His  will.  After  reading  a  portion  of  Scripture 
together,  the  father  and  his  child  knelt  down,  and 
Mr.  Hope  prayed  for  special  blessings  on  his  little 
one.  Lilias  rose  from  her  knees  much  solemnized  ; 
but  her  joyous  spirits  soon  recovered  themselves, 
and  taking  her  father's  hand  she  bounded  along, 
skipping  and  jumping,  into  the  library,  where  her 


LILIAS'    BIRTHDAY.  23 

sisters  and  brothers  met  her.  Presents  were  not 
given  until  after  morning  prayers ;  but  service 
over  the  whole  party  adjourned  to  the  breakfast- 
room,  and  there  were  all  the  beautiful  gifts  laid 
out  in  order  on  the  table,  and  a  lovely  little 
nosegay  on  Lily's  plate,  and  vases  of  exquisite 
flowers,  and  plates  of  delicious  fruit,  all  gathered 
together  to  delight  the  little  plaything  of  the  family 
on  her  birthday.  Lily's  heart  beat  with  delight  as 
she  went  from  one  pretty  thing  to  another,  reading 
the  affectionate  words  inscribed  on  the  labels  at- 
tached to  each  present,  hugging  and  kissing  each 
giver  most  unmercifully,  and  then  returning  to  j)urr 
about  amongst  her  offerings,  like  a  happy  kitten 
over  its  playthings.  The  morning  was  spent  by 
Lily  and  her  brothers  in  receiving  the  different 
parties  of  visitors,  as  they  arrived  one  by  one,  and 
in  exhibiting  to  each  all  the  various  presents  that 
she  had  received.  Papa  had  given  her  a  beautiful 
Bible,  with  maps  and  references,  a  possession  that 
the  little  lady  had  long  coveted,  and  she  was  very 
pr(^d  of  being  now  thought  old  enough  to  take  care 
of  it.  Maud  had  presented  her  with  a  magnificent 
drawing-room  for  her  dolls,  furnished  in  the  most 
tasteful  manner,  the  walls  covered  with  an  elegant 
gold  and  white  paper,  and  the  ground  with  a  beau- 


24  BLIND    LILIAS. 

tiful  crimson  carpet.  Then  there  were  chairs  and 
couches,  and  tables,  and  a  grate,  and  a  fender,  and 
even  a  little  copper  coal-scuttle  and  hearth-brush, 
articles  of  use  and  ornament  that  called  forth  al- 
most more  admiration  than  all  the  rest  together. 
Mabel's  gift  was  a  tea-set  for  the  dolls  and  their 
guests,  and  Lily  informed  her  visitors,  that  thej 
were  to  "  have  tea  out  of  them  that  very  afternoon, 
before  they  went  to  the  hay  field."  The  boys  had 
given  her  a  pretty  new  geographical  game,  with  a 
teetotum  and  counters  ;  and  even  the  absent  broth- 
ers had  not  forgotten  her,  but  each  had  commission- 
ed Maud  to  get  her  a  nice  book,  so  she  was  not  only 
the  happy  owner  of  all  these  playthings,  but  also 
of  Masterman  Ready  and  Robinson  Crusoe,  books 
which  she  promised  to  lend  to  every  one,  "  as  soon 
as  she  had  done  with  them  herself" 

The  first  arrivals  were  Annie  and  Rosamond 
Bright,  the  children  of  a  neighboring  clergyman,  and 
they  were  soon  followed  by  Mary  and  Walter  Green, 
with  their  tiny  sister  Lina,  a  little,  round,  fat  thing  of 
five,  who  had  never  before  spent  a  day  from  home 
v,nthout  her  mamma,  and  had  only  been  permitted 
to  do  so  now  on  Lily's  most  earnest  entreaties  that 
*'  the  darling  "  might  come,  and  Maud's  promises  to 
make  the  little  creature  her  own  especial  charge. 


LILIAS'    BIRTHDAY.  25 

All  these  were,  as  they  arrived,  nicely  put  in 
order  by  the  nurses  who  brought  them,  and  then 
left  with  strict  charges  to  be  very  good,  and  mind 
everj  thing  that  they  were  told.  Lily  then  took 
them  to  her  play-room,  where  nurse  sat  to  attend 
to  them,  and  soon  they  were  all  fully  engaged  in 
admiring  Lily's  new  playthings,  and  amusing  them- 
selves with  the  old.  Lily  not  unreasonably  feared 
the  havoc  that  so  many  little  hands  would  make  in 
her  pretty  new  toy,  and  begged  that  no  one  would 
touch  it ;  and  she  herself  set  the  example  of  for- 
bearance by  standing  with  her  hands  behind  her 
whilst  they  all  looked  at  each  article  of  the  furni- 
ture. But  there  were  plenty  of  toys  that  the  vis- 
itors were  allowed  freely  to  use ;  and  when  the  lit- 
tle twins  Johnny  and  Josephine  D'Urban,  and  their 
cousin  Gertrude  Mavor,  were  introduced  into  the 
room,  they  found  all  the  other  children  as  busy  at 
play,  and  making  as  much  noise,  as  if  they  had 
been  settled  there  for  a  month. 

Ernest  Graves  and  his  sister,  their  physician's 
children,  Avere  the  next  to  come ;  and  two  or  three 
more  little  girls  who  soon  arrived  completed  the 
party. 

"  Come,  Earnest,"  said  Vernon,  "  we  don't  want 
3 


26  BLIND    LILIAS. 

to  stay  here  ;  let  you  and  me  go  and  see  the  new- 
puppies,  and  then  I'll  show  you  my  pony," 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Ernest,  who  was  a  fine  lad 
of  about  Vernon's  age  ;  "  I  should  like  it  of  all 
things — come  along.  Will  you  go  too,  Ned  1 "  he 
added. 

Edward  agreed  to  join  them,  and  the  three  boys 
set  off  to  the  stables ;  whilst  the  younger  ones  of 
the  party,  ten  in  number,  includhig  the  little  host- 
ess, set  about  amusing  themselves  in  groups  as  they 
best  liked.  Janette  Graves,  who  was  a  year  older 
than  Lilias,  sat  down  on  a  low  chair  to  examine 
Lily's  dolls'  drawing-room,  and  Mary  Green  with 
her.  The  other  younger  ones  were  delighted  with 
loading  a  toy  wagon,  and  making  the  wooden  teams 
draw  it  round  and  round  the  room.  Johnny 
D'Urban  and  Walter  Green  pretended  to  be  millers, 
and  played  at  buying  the  sacks  of  flour  that  the 
wagoners  brought ;  and  Gertrude  Mavor  relieved 
Maud  from  all  anxiety  about  little  Lina,  by  taking 
her  under  her  special  care  as  her  own  child  for  the 
day,  and  was  now  playing  nursemaid  for  the  little 
one's  dolls. 

Lily,  seeing  that  ^11  the  boys  and  younger  chil- 
dren were  safe  at  play,  now  relaxed  her  authority 
over  the  drawing-room,  and  she  and  the  two  other 


LILIAS'    BIRTHDAY.  27 

little  girls  were  soon  busy  enough  in  full  play  with 
the  pretty  new  toy,  placing  and  replacing  each 
separate  piece  of  furniture,  and  admiring  every 
article,  as  they  carefully  examined  it,  as  emphatic- 
ally as  Lily  could  desire.  Lilias  was  very  good 
and  very  happy.  No  one  interfered  with  her  own 
peculiar  pleasures  and  prerogatives ;  and  Maud,  when 
she  looked  in  on  the  little  ones,  was  delighted  to 
see  her  behaving  as  a  little  hostess  should  to  her 
guests,  and  all  going  on  so  very  satisfactorily. 

Lilias  had  been  so  little  accustomed  to  have  any 
one  with  whom  to  share  her  amusements,  or  who 
was  likely  to  interfere  with  her  will,  that  she  scarce- 
ly knew  how  to  behave  with  other  children.  Those 
who  have  little  brothers  and  sisters  are,  of  course, 
often  called  on  to  yield  up  their  own  wishes  to  those 
of  others,  and  to  share  everything  with  the  rest ; 
but  solitary  children  such  as  Lilias,  from  having 
no  one  to  claim  a  share  in  any  indulgence,  or  to 
take  turns  with  them  in  any  amusement,  are  very 
apt  to  become  selfish,  and  desirous  of  ruling  the 
others,  and  of  engrossing  everything  for  themselves ; 
and  hence  arose  Maud's  fear  as  to  whether  the 
little  girl  would  behave  pleasantly  towards  her 
companions. 

Long  before  the  children  were  inclined  to  leave 


28  BLIND    LILIAS. 

their  play,  the  first  dinner  bell  rang,  and  the  nurses 
called  their  little  charges  to  be  put  neat  before  they 
went  down  stairs.  Gertrude  would  not  give  up 
Lina  to  any  one.  She  said  it  was  "  her  child,"  and 
would  let  no  one  but  herself  brush  the  little  one's 
hair,  and  wash  her  hands,  and  then  she  led  her  down, 
choosing  to  hold  the  office  of  nurse  and  playmate 
herself,  so  that  the  two,  the  youngest  and  the  eldest 
of  the  little  party,  for  Gertrude  was  twelve  years 
old,  became  wholly  inseparable  companions. 

There  was  an  elegant  dinner  laid  for  the  little 
party,  and  all  were  so  sober  and  dignified  in  their 
demeanor,  when  they  entered  the  dining-room,  that 
no  one  could  have  imagined  it  was  the  same  set  of 
children,  who  had  but  lately  made  the  house  echo 
with  their  mirth  and  play.  They  were  all  now 
conscious  of  the  honor  of  dining  out,  and  of  the 
importance  of  being  on  their  very  best  behavior. 
Besides  this,  some,  if  not  all  of  the  party,  were 
rather  shy  and  frightened,  and  would  have  found  it 
rather  difficult  at  first  to  utter  a  word.  Lilias  was 
seated  at  the  top  of  the  table,  a  dignity  reserved 
only  for  birthdays,  and  Maud  sat  by  her,  to  help 
her  in  her  office  of  president.  Little  Lina  sat  by 
Gertrude,  who  cut  her  dinner  for  her,  and  helped 
her  constantly,  though  by  so  doing,  she  left  herself 


LILIAS      BIRTHDAY, 


29 


but  little  time  to  enjoy  her  own  meal.  "  Miss 
Mavor,"  said  nurse,  "  do  please  to  let  me  'tend  up- 
on tlie  little  one  ;  you'll  let  your  chicken  get  quite 
cold."  But  Lina  pouted,  and  said  "  No  ;"  so  Ger- 
trude said  "  No,"  too  ;  and  thanking  nurse,  said  that 
she  had  undertaken  the  care  of  the  darling,  and  did 
not  mind  a  hit  about  her  dinner.  The  meal  over, 
a  game  of  play  on  the  stairs  commenced,  and  hide- 
and-seek,  battledore,  and  genuine  romping  of  all 
kinds  followed,  for  about  an  hour.  Mr.  Hope  then 
called  the  elder  ones  into  the  library,  and  showed 
them  some  prints,  whilst  the  little  ones  proceeded 
to  the  play-room,  to  take  tea  out  of  the  new  tea- 
things  ; — a  mere  play  tea,  for  the  proper  meal  was 
to  be  partaken  of  in  the  hay  field  two  hours  later, 
when  the  sun  was  a  little  lower,  and  the  air  less 
heated. 

3* 


IV. 

PRIDE  Mm  PASSIOK. 

''mmUAT  shall  we  do  next  ?  "  said  Edith  Gay, 

/^^  a  merry,  romping  girl  of  ten  years  old, 
when,  after  having  a  little  exhausted  their 
spirits,  by  running  and  jumping  over  the  hay,  bury- 
ing each  other  in  it,  and  playing  all  sorts  of  tricks, 
they  at  last  came  to  a  pause.  They  now  stood  all 
together  in  a  group  under  a  large  tree  by  the  stream 
that  ran  through  the  meadows. 

"  Yes,  what  shall  we  ?  "  joined  in  two  or  three 
voices. 

"  Let  us  try  who  can  jump  over  the  stream," 
said  Walter  Green. 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Lilias,  "  we  girls  can't  do  that !" 

"  Cannot  we  have  some  lines,  and  fish  1 "  asked 
Ernest. 

"  Msh,  Graves  !  who  ever  saw  a  fish  in  a  stream 
like  that  1     No,  that  won't  do,"  answered  Vernon, 

"  Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you,  Vernon,"  replied 
Ernest ;  "  let  us  all  get  into  that  wagon  and  drive 
round  the  fields." 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION.  31 

"So  we  will,  so  we  will,"  exclaimed  the  chil- 
dren. 

'•  But  we  must  not  without  leave,"  suggested 
Edward  ;  "  I  will  run  and  ask  Williams ;"  and  oft' 
he  ran  and  soon  returned  with  the  desired  permis- 
sion, and  followed  by  Williams  to  help  them  man- 
age the  horses  ;  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  a  dozen 
or  more  of  merry  ci'eatures  were  seated  on  the  soft 
hay,  of  which  the  wagon  was  half  full,  urging  on 
the  great  horses  to  trot,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  utterly  regardless  of  the  jumbling  that 
ensued,  as  t^e  wheels  jolted  over  the  drain  courses 
which  crossed  the  fields  in  every  direction.  Ger- 
trude and  Lina  were  not  of  the  party,  but  sat  under 
a  tree  playing  with  flowers,  for  the  wise  and  moth- 
erly little  girl  was  afraid  to  trust  her  young  charge 
in  the  crowded  wagon,  and  Gertrude  never  thought 
of  her  own  pleasure  when  it  seemed  to  interfere 
with  either  the  pleasure  or  the  good  of  others. 

"  Let  me  go  too,  Toodie,"  said  the  little  thing, 
jumping  up,  as  the  merry  and  noisy  party  passed 
by  the  spot  where  they  were  sitting,  rattling  along 
and  waving  their  hands  and  handkerchiefs. 

'•  No,  darling,  Toodie  cannot  let  you  go ;  Lina  is 
too  little,"  replied  Gertrude. 

"  But  you're  not  too  little.     Why  don't  you  go, 


32  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Toodie'?"  asked  the  ehiJd  ;  "  you  could  take  care  of 
me.     Do  go,  it  is  so  funny  !  " 

But  Gertrude,  true  to  her  charge,  would  not  be 
persuaded,  and  when,  on  their  next  round,  the  boys 
stopped  the  wagon  and  begged  her  to  come  in,  she 
still  steadily,  but  with  the  most  perfect  good  humor, 
declined,  and  continued  to  devote  herself  to  her 
little  playfellow's  amusement. 

All  the  children  in  the  wagon  enjoyed  the  sport 
exceedingly.  On  they  went,  over  rut  and  hillock, 
hay  mound  and  drain  course,  Williams  running  at 
the  head  of  the  horses  until,  exhausted  by  his  ef- 
forts, the  poor  man  stopped  to  rest  a  moment. 
Then  Vernon  and  Ernest  clambered  over  the  front 
of  the  wagon  to  the  shafts,  and  thence  to  the  backs 
of  the  horses,  where  they  seated  themselves  in  ti-i- 
umph  ;  and  as  they  did  so.  Miss  Lily,  ever  foremost 
in  frolic,  seized  the  extempore  reins,  made  of  a 
piece  of  cord  which  Williams  had  tied  on  for  them, 
and  the  whip  which  Vernon  had  abandoned,  and 
began  to  slash  about  her,  and  urge  the  horses  for- 
ward with  whip  and  voice.  For  a  little  while  noth- 
ing was  to  be  heard  but  shouts  of  mirth  and  laugh- 
ter, but  then  Lilias,  not  content  with  a  moderate 
exercise  of  her  authority,  began  slashing  at  the 
horses  with  all  her  might,  and  not  being  either  very 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION.  33 

skilful  or  very  careful,  her  brother  and  his  friend 
came  in  for  a  share  of  the  whipping, 

"  Hallo  !"  exclaimed  Vernon,  angrily  ;  "  who  is 
that  slashing  me  with  the  whip^'  and  turning 
around  he  soon  discovered  who  was  the  culprit. 
There  stood  Lilias,  her  hat  thrown  oft;  her  long 
curls  flying  about  in  wild  disorder,  her  face  scarlet 
with  heat  and  excitement,  waving  her  long  whip 
about  in  the  air,  shouting  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
and  gesticulating  more  like  a  great  boy  than  a 
young  lady. 

"Lilias!"  he  exclaimed,  " for  shame!  put  down 
the  whip  and  reins  directly,  you  naughty  child — 
you  had  no  business  to  t^ike  them  ;  a  child  of  your 
age  attempting  to  do  such  a  thing,  indeed !  Put 
down  the  whip,"  he  reiterated,  seeing  that  his  sister 
was  not  disposed  to  obey  his  command,  "  or  I'll 
make  you." 

Excessively  annoyed  and  angry  at  Vernon's  dic- 
tatorial manner,  and  at  his  calling  her  "such  a 
child,"  Lilias  replied  in  a  pert  and  disagreeable 
manner,  that  she  should  not  do  it  for  his  bidding, 
and  that  he  was  but  a  child  himself.  On  this,  her 
brother,  who,  having  been  two  years  at  a  public 
school,  had  a  most  supreme  contempt  for  girls, 
especially  little  girls,  and   by  no   means   thought 


34  BLIND    LILIAS. 

himself  a  child,  became  very  angry,  and  seeing  that 
Lilias  again  triumphantly  flourished  the  whip,  and 
gave  the  horses  another  cut,  he  called  to  Williams, 
who,  being  at  the  head  of  the  horses,  knew  nothing 
of  what  was  passing,  to  stop,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 
done  so  the  young  gentleman  scrambled  from  the 
horse  back  into  the  wagon,  exclaiming,  "  I'll  teach 
you." 

Lilias,  who  was  a  little  afraid  of  her  brother,  and 
perhaps  i-ather  alarmed  as  to  what  sort  of  teaching 
he  might  have  recourse  to,  sprang  away,  and  Ver- 
non pursuing  her  to  the  back  of  the  wagon,  she 
suddenly  overbalanced  herself  and  fell  over  the  low 
tail-board  to  the  ground,  a  little  more  hastily  than 
she  quite  liked.  Of  course  she  roared  lustily,  but 
whether  with  wrath  or  pain  the  party  in  the  wagon 
could  not  decide.  In  an  instant  Vernon  leaped 
down,  and  was  at  her  side.  To  his  great  satisfac- 
tion he  found  that  she  had  fallen  on  a  heap  of  hay, 
and  had  probably  received  no  injury  ;  but  his  anger 
had  rapidly  changed  into  sorrow  and  compunction 
when  he  saw  her  foil,  and  he  now  affectionately,  and 
with  many  apologies,  tried  to  raise  her  up. 

But  the  young  lady  would  not  be  mollified,  and, 
as  is  wont  with  passionate  children,  she  continued 


PRIUE    AND    PASSION.  35 

to  lie  on  the  ground,  kicking  and  screaming,  and 
looking  the  very  picture  of  naughtiness. 

"  O  Lil3%"  he  said,  half  frightened  at  her  violence, 
"  do  get  up,  and  not  cry  so.  I  had  no  idea  of  hurt- 
ing you,  and  I  am  so  soi'ry  !" 

"  You  pushed  me  out,  you  naughty  boy — you 
did.  You  did  it  on  purpose  to  kill  me,  and  I'll  tell 
papa,  and  then  you'll  see  what  he  will  say  to  you," 
sobbed  the  naughty  child,  renewing  her  screams  and 
kicking. 

"  No,  Lily,  nonsense,"  replied  Vernon ;  "  I  did 
not  push  you — it  was  you  that  overbalanced  your- 
self in  pushing  me  back.  But  come,  Lil,"  he  added, 
"  make  it  up  and  be  friends — I  am  very  sorry  I  was 
rude  and  cross.  Come,  darling,  you  are  not  hurt ; 
let  me  help  you  up  again,  and  you  shall  drive  if 
you  like,  and  whip  me  too  if  you  will  ;  but  don't 
let  us  spoil  every  one's  pleasure  so,  and  on  your 
birthday,  too." 

But  Lily  would  not  be  entreated.  She  said  she 
was  hurt,  and  would  not  get  into  the  nasty  wagon 
again,  nor  have  anything  to  do  with  such  rude,  dis- 
agreeable boys  ;  and  seeing  that  several  of  the  chil- 
dren, who  had  now  descended  from  the  wagon  and 
stood  round,  were  rather  disposed  to  smile  at  her 
absurd  appearance  and   expressions,  she  suddenly 


36  BLIND    LILIAS. 

sprang  from  the  ground  in  a  fresh  access  of  passion, 
saying,  "And  instead  of  pitying  me,  you  are  laugh- 
ing at  me — a  nice  set  of  friends  you  are,  to  be 
sure  !"  and  turning  suddenly,  she  flew  across  the 
fields  into  the  house,  where  she  was  found  an  hour 
after  seated  in  tlie  nursery  in  sullen  dignity. 

And  so  Lily's  happy  day  was  spoiled.  The  other 
children  had  tea  and  junket,  and  strawberries  and 
cream,  in  the  hay-field.  They  saw  the  ricks  com- 
pleted, and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  all  the  work- 
men and  their  wives  and  children  enjoy  the  hay- 
harvest  supper  at  the  farm-house ;  but  Lily,  poor 
child,  though  not  under  sentence  of  punishment 
(for  her  father,  who,  for  a  long  time,  had  not  heard 
of  her  ill  conduct,  had  left  her  to  herself,  and  taken 
as  yet  no  notice  of  it),  could  not  prevail  on  herself 
to  rejoin  the  party,  but  sat  alone,  sullen  and  angry, 
though  several  of  her  little  friends  kindly  came  to 
seek  and  try  to  soothe  her. 

It  is  sad  indeed  to  see  how  often  our  own  tem- 
pers stand  in  the  way  of  our  happiness.  Every 
indulgence  and  pleasure  that  a  little  girl  could  de- 
vise, bad  been  provided  for  Lilias,  and  nothing  hin- 
dered ber  enjoyment  save  her  own  pride  and  pas- 
sion. But  pride,  cherished  in  the  heart,  is  enough 
in  itself  to    de-troy  all  comfort  and  enjoyment — a 


PHIDE    AND    PASSION.  37 

single  word  or  look  will  wound  a  proud  spirit, 
when  an  humbler  one  will  pass  many  by,  if  not  with- 
out notice,  yet  without  feeling  hurt.  The  child  who 
begins  to  give  Avay  to  bad  feeling  and  passionate 
actions,  never  knows  when  she  will  stop.  The 
Scripture  says,  "  The  beginning  of  wrath  is  as  when 
one  Ictteth  out  water ;  therefore  let  alone  strife, 
before  it  be  meddled  with."  I  have  heard  children 
say,  "  But  I  can't  help  being  in  a  passion,  it  comes 
on  me  so  quick  that  I  can't  stop  it." 

My  children,  this  would  not  be  so  if  you  habit- 
ually tried  to  remember  Him  who  was  once  a  child 
like  yourselves — to  think  of  Him  who  was  meek 
and  lowly  in  heart,  and  try  to  be  like  Him,  The 
best  recipe  I  can  give  to  any  one  who  is  subject  to 
fits  of  anger,  and  to  be  "  easily  provoked,"  is  to 
pause  a  moment  before  you  take  notice  in  words  of 
anything  that  offends  you,  and  lift  up  your  heart  to 
God  in  this  short  pi-ayer — "  Father,  help  me,  and 
make  me  patient  and  humble  like  Thy  dear  Son 
Je>u9  Christ."  If  you  pray  thus  with  all  your 
heart,  and  then  try  to  act  in  conformity  with  your 
prayer,  you  will  spare  yourself  many  a  sorrowful 
hour,  and  your  parents  and  frii'uds  many  a  troubled 
thought.  Above  all,  I  would  add  that  you  will 
Sparc  your  Saviour  the  grief  of  seeing  any  little 


38 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


one,  whom  He  would  flxin  call  a  lamb  of  His  fold, 
acting  like  a  little  savage  heathen  child  who  never 
heard  of  God  or  His  holy  Son. 

Lilias  knew  better  than  she  allowed  people  to 
suppose.  She  knew  that  she  had  offended  God,  and 
disgraced  herself  in  the  sight  of  her  little  friends. 
She  knew  also  that  she  had  been  the  means  of  spoil- 
ing much  of  their  enjoyment,  and  that  she  owed 
them  all  the  reparation  she  could  make,  and  ought 
to  ask  all  their  pardons,  and  try  and  do  all  she  could 
by  kind  and  gentle  behavior  to  make  amends  to 
them  ;  yet,  poor  child,  she  could  not  at  present 
make  up  her  mind  to  do  this,  and  consequently  she 
sat  in  her  solitude  until  her  father  came  to  seek  her, 
and  finding  her  still  unsubdued  and  sullen,  he  desired 
nurse  to  give  her  some  tea  up-stairs,  and  then  to 
put  her  to  bed. 

Her  punishment  was  of  a  salutary  nature.  Left 
to  her  own  reflections,  though  at  first  inclined  to  lay 
the  blame  of  her  fault  on  any  one  rather  than  her- 
self, and  to  rebel  against  that  kind  father  who  had 
sentenced  her,  and  nurse,  who,  when  she  brought  her 
some  refreshment,  tried  to  lead  her  to  a  better  state 
of  feeling,  yet  as  time  went  on  Lilias  began  to  see 
with  clearer  eyes,  and  to  be  conscious  how  much 
she  had  been   to   1)1  a  mo.     In   consequence  of  this, 


PRIDE    ANU    PASSION.  39 

before  she  went  to  bed,  she  was  able  to  beg  that  her 
papa  would  come  up,  and  when  he  did  so,  to  con- 
fess her  fault  to  him  and  ask  his  forgiveness. 

"  But  there  is  One  whose  pardon  you  ought  to 
ask  before  mine,  dear  Lily,"  said  Mr.  Hope ;  "  have 
you  asked  Him  to  forgive  you  f 

"  No,  papa,"  replied  she  ;  "  I  have  not  seen  him, 
and  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  ask  his  pardon.  It  was 
all  his  fault  in  the  beginning,  and  I  think  he  ought 
to  ask  mine." 

''•  I  did  not  speak  of  your  brother,  my  dear,"  an- 
swered Mr.  Hope;  "but  as  you  name  him,  I  must 
iust  say  that  I  do  not  think  it  was  all  his  fault,  even 
in  the  beginning.  Besides,  if  I  am  not  misinformed, 
Vernon  did  ask  your  forgiveness,  and  say  he  was 
sorry,  and  ask  you  to  be  friends.  But  my  naughty 
and  passionate  little  girl  refused  to  forgive  her 
brother.  Now  it  is  your  place  to  ask  his  pardon. 
Do  not  you  think  so  ?" 

"Yes,  papa,"  said  Lily  half  aloud. 

"But,  dear  child,  is  there  not  One  of  more  im- 
portance than  cither  I  or  Vernon,  whom  you  have 
ofFendtd  by  your  wild  passions ?  Let  us  kneel  to- 
gether and  ask  Him  to  pardon  you,  and  then  per- 
haps you  will  feel  better  able  to  send  your  brother 
a  message   of  love   by  me,  and   meet  him    in    the 


40  BLIND    LILIAS. 

morning    as   a   little    brother    and   sister    should 
meet." 

Lily  and  her  father  knelt  together,  and  Mr. 
Hope,  in  simple  language,  such  as  his  child  would 
feel  and  understand,  offered  a  short  confession  of 
sin,  and  prayed  the  God  of  all  love  and  mercy  to 
pardon  her,  and  give  her  a  new  heart,  and  grace 
hereafter  to  walk  in  Christ's  ways  ;  and,  when  they 
rose,  Lily's  heart  was  softened,  and  her  pride  gone, 
and  sobbing  on  her  father's  breast  she  humbly  con- 
fessed that  she  had  indeed  been  very  naughty,  and 
sent  a  loving  message  to  Vernon,  and  "  good-nights" 
to  her  young  friends,  and  then  with  a  heart  more  at 
peace  than  it  had  been  for  many  hours,  the  little 
girl  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow,  and  was  soon  fast 
asleep. 


V. 

THE  LITTLE  MIMIG. 

:ILIAS  woke  the  next  morning  with  rather  a 
heavy  heart.  She  did  not  quite  like  the  idea 
of  coming  into  the  presence  of  those  who 
had  witnessed  her  misconduct,  nor  could  she  quite 
make  up  her  mind  what  to  say  to  Vernon,  nor 
exactly  decide  as  to  what  she  should  do  in  other 
respects. 

After  nurse  had  left  her,  and  she  had  said  her 
prayers,  and  read  her  morning  chapter  in  the  Bible, 
she  therefore  lingered  a  little,  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  then  stood  irresolute  for  a  moment. 
At  last,  feeling  like  a  wise  child  that  the  time  must 
come,  and  that  matters  would  not  be  made  better 
by  delay,  she  boldly  opened  tlie  door,  and  was  pro- 
ceeding on  her  way  down-stairs,  when,  to  her  great 
svn-prisc,  she  saw  Vernon  standing  at  the  staircase 
window.  He  had  been  waiting  for  her  to  appear, 
and  was  the  first  to  say  how  sorry  he  was  for  what 
had  happened ;  that  he  knew  he  had  not  been  kind 

the  day  before,  and   was  quite   ready   to   take   the 
4* 


42  BLIND    LILIAS. 

blame  on  himself.  But  Lily  said,  "  No,  it  was, 
most  of  it,  her  fault,"  and  asked  hin:i  to  forgive  her  ; 
so  then  they  kissed  each  other  most  lovingly,  and 
walked  hand  in  hand  into  the  library  where  all 
were  assembled  for  morning  prayers. 

When  the  little  twins  and  Gertrude  saw  that  she 
and  Vernon  were  friends,  so  far  from  laughing  at 
Lily,  or  as  she  had  feared,  looking  unkindly  at  her, 
they  all  ran  to  her  and  kissed  her,  and  not  a  word 
was  said  by  any  one  in  reference  to  yesterday,  and 
consequently  in  a  few  minutes  she  was  again  quite 
happy  and  as  full  of  play  as  any  of  the  party. 

The  morning  of  the  day  after  Lilias'  birthday 
was  lovely,  and  the  little  girls  enjoyed,  each  in  turn, 
a  ride  on  the  pony  on  the  soft  grass  of  the  field, 
whence  all  the  hay  was  now  cleared  away  ;  and  the 
boys,  meanwhile,  took  a  walk  with  Mr.  Hope.  But 
at  about  twelve  the  day  became  overcast,  and  a 
thoroughly  wet  afternoon  set  in,  precluding  the  pos- 
sibility of  any  more  out-of  door  amusements,  so 
that  the  little  visitors  were  obliged  to  content  them- 
selves with  home  occupation.  Vernon  and  Ger- 
trude began  a  long  game  of  battledore,  and  their 
merry  voices  might  be  heard  the  house  over,  count- 
ing their  number  of  strokes,  and  laughing  as  now 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  43 

one,  and  then  the  other,  made  false  strokes,  and  let 
the  shuttlecock  foil  to  the  ground, 

Johnny  D'Urlian  and  Edward  Hope  settled  to 
drawing  ;  the  former  copying  a  landscape  of  his  sis- 
ter's, whilst  the  latter  diverted  himself  with  sketch- 
ing a  strange  wild  procession  of  animals — cats 
riding  on  rats,  foxes  on  camels,  hens  on  cocks,  with 
the  bridle  in  their  beaks,  etc.,  etc.,  while  the  whole 
air  above  was  filled  with  cats,  dogs,  and  other  ani- 
mals, riding  at  full  speed  on  eagles,  geese,  and 
other  birds.  He  was  a  child  of  considerable  pow- 
ers of  mind,  and  possessed  of  a  remarkable  degree 
of  fjincy  and  imagination,  so  that  he  not  only 
amused  himself,  but  Gertrude  also,  who  sat  by  him 
after  her  game  was  over,  laughing  at  the  odd  con- 
ceits that  he  produced  so  rapidly. 

Lilias  and  Josephine,  who  were  of  about  the 
same  age,  amused  themselves  with  Lily's  dolls,  of 
which  she  had  an  immense  number  of  every  age 
and  kind.  First  the  whole  party,  wooden  and  wax, 
giris  and  boys,  were  elaborately  instructed  in  every 
branch  of  learning  in  which  cither  of  the  little  girls 
had  been  accustomed  herself  to  be  exercised.  Sev- 
eral of  them  were,  of  course,  stubborn  and  naughty  ; 
and  then  they  were  disciplined,  and  reproved,  and 
punished,  but  we  must  confess,  with  a  greater  de- 


44  BLIND    LILIAS. 

gree  of  severity,  and  for  times  of  far  longer  dura- 
tion, than  the  little  teachers  themselves  ever  expe- 
rienced. Lessons  over,  the  whole  party  were  taken 
for  a  walk,  Lilias  playing  mamma,  and  Josephine 
nurse.  After  this  it  was  discovered  that  one  poor 
little  creature  called  Willie — a  doll  of  that  species 
that  turns  its  head,  and  makes  a  kind  of  barking 
noise — had  a  dreadful  cough.  It  was  pronounced 
to  be  hooping-cough,  and  poor  Willie  was  made  to 
keep  on  coughing,  while  the  little  nurses  with  moth- 
erly assiduity,  proceeded  to  undress  him,  and  lay 
him  in  the  cradle. 

"  We  must  fetch  the  doctor  for  the  poor  darling," 
said  Josephine — "mamma  did  when  baby  had  it;" 
and  off  she  ran,  begging  that  Johnny,  who  held  the 
office  of  family  physician  to  the  inhabitants  of  doll- 
land,  would  come  immediately,  and  prescribe  for 
poor  Willie — a  call  that  Johnny  was  quite  willing 
to  obey.  Gertrude  came  with  him,  and  Ned,  find- 
ing that  the  drawing  party  was  broken  up,  soon  fol- 
lowed them.  Johnny,  who,  from  baby's  recent 
treatment,  w^as  well  up  in  the  symptoms  of,  and 
remedies  for,  the  complaint,  ordered  that  Willie 
should  not  be  kept  in  bed,  but  must  on  no  account 
go  out  of  the  house ;  so  then  the  little  nurses  took 
him  up  and  dressed  him  again.     Then  Johnny  pre- 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  45 

scribed  certain  oils  to  be  rubbed  into  the  chest,  and 
other  alleviating  measures,  kindly  undertaking  to 
superintend  the  application  of  the  oils.  Ned  of- 
fered his  assistance  in  fetching  lueJicina  from  the 
chemist's,  whilst  Gertrude  undertook  to  amuse  the 
other  doll  little  ones,  and  keep  them  out  of  the 
way  ;  consequently,  the  whole  party,  boys  and  girls, 
were  soon  so  busy  at  play  with  the  dolls  as  to  be 
quite  sorry  to  hear  the  first  bell  summoning  them 
to  prepare  for  dinner,  and  agreed  that  they  would 
return  to  their  play  as  soon  as  possible  after  dinner. 

When  the  little  playfellows  returned  to  their 
young  family,  they  found  that  Willie's  cough  was 
no  better.  "  Worse,  indeed,  poor  child,"  Lilias 
said,  and  most  certainly  he  did  make  a  most  strange 
and  alarming  noise.  Moreover,  it  was  discovered 
that  several  more  of  the  dolls  had  symptoms  of  the 
same  complaint,  and  required  attention. 

After  applying  their  remedies  very  freely,  Johnny 
and  Edward  undertook  to  get  up  a  show  for  the 
amusement  of  the  invalids.  For  this  purpose  all 
the  toys  and  pictures  that  could  be  mustered  were 
set  up  in  semicircles,  and  a  stage  built  with  bricks 
in  the  centre,  on  which  were  placed  all  the  dolls. 
About  twenty  of  different  kinds  and  sizes,  from 
Lily';^  beautiful   wax   baby  to   the  humblest  little 


46  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Dutch  damsel,  were  placed  on  this  ;  and  Edward 
with  a  long  stick  in  his  hand,  took  on  him  the  office 
of  showman,  and  described  all  the  wonderful  things 
before  them  in  a  loud  voice,  interspersing  his 
descriptions  with  all  sorts  of  fun  and  nonsense  ; 
whilst  Gertrude,  Johnny,  Lily,  and  Josephine, 
grouped  behind  the  stage  of  dolls,  amused  them- 
selves in  making  small  speeches  and  merry  laughs, 
in  all  sorts  of  doll-like  voices,  to  represent  the  re- 
marks of  the  tiny  people  for  whose  amusement  the 
exhibition  was  supposed  to  be  got  up. 

All,  little  and  big,  were  enjoying  themselves 
most  heartily,  when  the  sudden  appearance  of  Maud 
and  Mabel,  who,  attracted  by  the  sounds  of  mirth, 
came  to  see  what  was  going  on,  almost  broke  up 
the  fun.  Poor  Edward  and  Johnny  were  shocked 
to  be  found  thus  playing  with  the  girls  and  their 
dolls,  but  the  elder  girls  so  much  admired  the  show, 
and  so  carefully  refrained  from  anything  that  might 
look  like  disrespect  to  the  exhibition,  that  they 
were  soon  re-assured,  and  the  fun  went  on  with 
unabated  ardor,  until  nurse  summoned  her  little 
charges  to  be  dressed. 

New  pleasures  were  found  for  the  evening,  and 
the  day  passed  off  so  pleasantly,  that  all  the  chil- 
dren agreed   that   they   hoped  it  would  be  wet  to- 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  47 

morrow.  Lilias  had  been  so  much  subdued  by  the 
events  of  yesterday  as  to  be  quite  a  different  child 
in  her  demeanor.  Gentle  and  yielding,  and  full  of 
concern  for  the  pleasure  and  comfort  of  others,  she 
had  herself  found  abundant  enjoyment,  and  she  told 
nurse  when  she  went  to  bed  that  she  never  had  been 
so  happy,  and  she  meant  to  be  always  good. 

The  desires  of  the  children  for  a  wet  day  were 
fully  gratified,  for  the  morning  rose  with  such  a 
clouded  sky,  and  such  heavy  rains,  that  there  ap- 
peared every  prospect  that  none  of  the  party  would 
be  able  to  get  out  of  doors  that  day.  The  time 
did  not,  however,  pass  so  pleasantly  as  the  day  be- 
fore ;  the  home  resources  had  been  in  some  measure 
exhausted,  and,  besides  this,  Lilias  had  l)egun  to  for- 
get her  good  resolutions,  and  had  been  rather  cross 
and  pettish.  Josephine  wished  to  play  with  the 
dolls  again,  and  Lily  had  set  her  mind  on  a  game 
of  battledore  with  Johnny,  and  would  not  give  it 
up,  and  then  the  little  girls  were  very  near  quarrel- 
ling, and  would  have  quite  done  so,  had  not  Ger- 
trude, who  was  always  watchfid  for  opportunities 
of  pleasing  and  helping  others,  and  ready  to  give 
up  her  own  pleasure,  if  by  doing  so  she  could 
minister  to  that  of  others,  goodnaturedly  left  her 
employment,  and  gone  to  play  at  dolls  and  doctors 


48  BLIND    LILIAB. 

with  the  little  girl.  All,  however,  went  on  pretty 
smoothly  until  after  dinner.  Then  the  long  con- 
finement to  the  house  began  to  tell,  and  the  children 
all  became  rather  dull,  and  some  of  them  rather 
contradictory.  Lilias  had  a  pretty  kitten  called 
Tiny,  of  which  she  was  very  fond.  Josephine 
wanted  Tiny  to  lie  on  her  lap,  but  Tiny  had  a  will 
of  her  own,  and  springing  off  Josephine's  knee, 
climbed  up  Lily's  frock,  and  established  herself  on 
her  shoulder,  and  then  began  to  pull  at  Lily's  curls, 
and  comb  them  with  her  claws,  as  she  was  accustom- 
ed to  do.  "  Of  course  she  will  come  to  her  own 
mistress,"  said  Lily,  stroking  the  little  creature, 
"  of  course  she  will  ;  I  should  not  love  you  a  bit, 
Tiny,  if  you  did  not  love  me  the  very  best  of  all 
in  the  world." 

"  Oh,  '  of  course'  indeed,"  replied  Josephine,  pet- 
tishly. "  Of  course  she  does  come  to  you,  because 
you  coax  her  away  from  every  one  else,  and  it 's 
only  because  you  feed  her.  If  I  had  milk  or  meat, 
I  would  soon  get  her  back." 

Lily  fired  up :  "  You  would  not ;  you  would 
never  get  her  away  from  me.  If  you  were  to  feed 
her  all  day  long,  she  would  not  love  you.  She 
loves  me  though,  pretty  dear,"  added  she,  caressing 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  49 

her  little  j^et ;  "  and  I  never  feed  her,  or  scarcely 
ever.     Stupid  little  thing  you  are,  Josephine  !  " 

"  Lilias  !  "  said  Maud. 

Lilias  blushed,  and  looked  ashamed.  Her  sister's 
glance  had  reminded  her  that  she  had  resolved  not 
to  be  selfish  any  more,  nor  to  try  always  to  be  first. 
It  brought  to  her  mind  those  better  feelings ;  and 
taking  the  kitten  gently  from  her  shoulder,  she  placed 
her  in  Josephine's  lap,  saying  as  she  did  so,  "  I  didn't 
mean  it,  Josephine.  You  shall  have  her.  I  '11  soon 
make  her  stay  with  you ;"  and  stroking  her  little 
favorite  she  soon  got  her  to  settle  on  Josephine's 
lap,  and  showing  her  friend  how  to  please  the  little 
purring  pet,  by  rubbing  its  throat,  and  letting  it  lie 
without  holding  it  so  tight  as  she  had  before,  she 
soon  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Tiny  at  high  play 
on  Josephine's  lap,  and  needed  not  Maud's  affection- 
ate glance  of  approval  to  give  her  the  higher  pleas- 
ure of  feeling  that  she  had  conquered  self. 

Maud,  seeing  that  the  children  were  getting 
weary  of  the  long  day,  now  proposed  that  each  one 
should  do  something  in  turn  to  amuse  the  rest — 
either  to  sing  a  song,  or  tell  a  story,  or  ask  a  riddle, 
or  anything  else  they  chose.  This  proposal  was 
highly  applauded,  and  it  was  decided  that  the  eldest 
should  begin.  Vernon,  therefore,  sang  a  merry 
5 


50  BLIND    LILIA8. 

comic  song,  with  several  amusing  changes  and 
gesticulations  to  suit  the  subject,  which  made  them 
all  laugh  exceedingly.  Maud  had  been  called 
away,  but  she  promised  that  she  would  come  back 
and  give  her  contribution  at  the  end.  Gertrude's 
turn  came  next.  She  chose  to  tell  a  story,  and  all 
sat  round  and  listened  with  breathless  interest, 
whilst  she  very  prettily  repeated  a  story  of  some 
French  emigrants,  which  she  had  lately  read,  in 
which  the  children  of  a  noble  family  had  been  re- 
duced to  such  necessity  as  to  have  been  all  obliged 
to  go  out  as  servants,  some  of  them  in  the  lowest 
capacity  ;  and  as  she  told  of  their  toils  and  of  the 
efforts  they  all  made  to  maintain  their  poor  parents 
by  their  labors,  her  little  auditors  were  all  so  full 
of  sympathy  that  the  girls  almost  wept. 

But  Edward's  arithmetical  question,  which  came 
next,  was  of  so  puzzling  and  amusing  a  character, 
that  the  pathos  of  Gertrude's  story  was  soon  for- 
gotten. Edward's  question  was  this  : — "A  woman 
went  out  to  sell  some  eggs.  To  the  first  person 
she  met  she  sold  half  she  had  and  half  an  egg ;  to 
the  second,  half  she  had  remaining  and  half  an  egg ; 
to  the  third,  half  she  had  then  remaining  and  half 
an  egg.  At  the  end  she  had  one  egg  left,  and  she 
had  not  broken  or  otherwise  divided  one  egg  in  the 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  51 

course  of  her  sales.  Query,  How  many  had  she  in 
her  basket  when  she  began  1" 

This  was  a  puzzler  indeed,  Vernon  thought  and 
pondered  over  it,  but  did  not  speak.  Lily  guessed 
at  random,  "  Six — nine — four  ?  "  Gertrude  saw  at 
once  that  none  of  these  numbers  would  do,  but 
could  in  no  way  find  out  what  would.  Josephine 
followed  Lily's  example,  and  guessed  all  sorts  of 
numbers  without  having  any  reasons  for  naming 
one  more  than  another  ;  and  Johnny  quietly  said, 
"  It  can't  be  true  ;  she  could  not  have  sold  people 
half  eggs  three  times  over,  and  yet  not  have  broken 
one,  and  so  I  shan't  try  to  find  out  what  can't  be. 
You  must  have  mistaken  the  riddle,  Ned." 

But  Ned,  chuckling  over  his  very  successful  at- 
tempt to  puzzle  them,  would  only  assure  them  that 
he  was  quite  right,  and  so  they  would  see  when  they 
knew  the  answer.  Many  numbers  were  tried  and  re- 
jected, for  the  puzzle  of  the  half  eggs  baffled  them  all. 

"  Shall  I  tell  ? "  asked  Edward. 

"  Yes,  do,"  said  Gertrude,  "  I  can  make  nothing 
of  it." 

"It's  all  nonsense,"  said  Master  Johnny,  "/have 
not  tried." 

"  And  you  would  not  have  found  out  if  you  had, 
old  boy,"  said  Edward,  laughing. 


53  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  Come,  Ned,  tell,"  said  Lily  :  and  Josephine 
too  said,  "  Yes,  do,  tell  what  it  is."  But  Vernon, 
•who  had  for  the  last  few  minutes  been  so  busy  with 
pencil  and  paper,  that  he  had  not  heard  what  was 
passing,  now  interposed,  "  Tell ;  no,  certainly  not, 
don't  tell,  Ned.  I  almost  have  it,  stop  a  minute  ;" 
and,  completing  his  calculation,  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
have  it ;  she  had  fifteen  !" 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,"  replied  Edward.  "  Now, 
Master  Johnny,  I  have  been  longing  to  convince 
you.     Don't  you  see  now?" 

But  Johnny  did  not  see.  He  was  old  enough  to 
perceive  the  difficulty,  but  not  to  discover  the  way 
of  obviating  it  without  some  explanation.  So  Ver- 
non set  himself  to  make  the  matter  clear  to  the  lit- 
tle ones,  all  of  whom  were  eager  to  make  out  the 
meaning  of  the  answer.  "  Now  attend," — said  Ver- 
non, "  and  think — ^liow  many  is  half  fifteen  ?" 

"  Seven  and  a  half,"  said  Lily. 

"  Well,  you  know  she  sold  to  her  first  customer 
half  she  had — that  is,  seven  and  a  halt^ — and  half  an 

egg." 

"  I  see,"  said  Johnny  ;  "  and  that  made  eight, 
and  then  she  had  seven  left.     That 's  capital." 

"  Yes;  and  then  the  next  customer  had  three  and 
a  half  and  the  half  egg  made  four,  and  the  last  had 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  53 

one  and  a  half  and  the  half  made  two,  and  then  she 
had  one  left,"  continued  Vernon.  All  were  de- 
lighted, and,  of  course,  after  the  explanation  all 
understood. 

And  now  it  was  Lily's  turn,  as,  on  comparing 
ages,  it  was  proved  that  she  was  a  few  weeks  in 
advance  of  the  twins.  In  an  instant  Lily  was  on 
her  feet.  She  threw  back  her  head,  half  closed  her 
eyes,  and  began  to  strut  up  and  down  the  room  in 
a  droll  manner,  saying  several  sentences,  one  after 
the  other  very  rapidly,  and  ending  each  with,  "Eh ! 
don't  you  think  so,  ma'am  ?" 

Two  or  three  voices  exclaimed  at  once,  amidst 
bursts  of  laughter,  "  Major  Edwards.  It's  the 
Major  himself — how  well  you  do  it,  Lily."  Then 
Lily  changed  her  whole  manner — got  on  a  chaii", 
and  with  a  low,  snuffling  voice  and  droning  manner, 
and  wrinkled-up  flice,  proceeded  to  imitate  some 
one  preaching  a  sermon.  "  That 's  Mr.  Scott,"  ex- 
claimed Vernon.  "  Capital,  Lily  ;  now  do  old  Mrs. 
Swenzer." 

But  Gertrude  looked  grave,  and  said,  "  No,  Lily  ; 
it  is  not  right  to  mimic  people.  Papa  used  to  say 
he  thought  it  very  wrong  and  unkind  to  turn  people 
into  ridicule.     Don't  do  it,  dear." 

"  Nonsense ;  I  am  not  ridiculing  them,"  replied 
5* 


54  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Lily.  "I  am  only  taking  ofl"  their  manner,  and 
making  you  guess  who  they  are,  I  wish  you  would 
not  be  so  fussy.     There  is  no  harm  in  it." 

"  It 's  because  Gerty  can't  do  it  herself,"  said 
Johnny,  who  had  been  excessively  delighted  at 
Lily's  performance.  "  She  can  never  imitate  any- 
thing ;  she  can't  crow  like  a  cock,  or  bray,  or  cackle, 
nor  make  any  noise  like  animals ;  when  my  turn 
comes,  I'll  give  you  all  the  barn-yard  noises  fast 
enough.  I  have  never  tried  to  do  people,  but  I 
shall,  and  I  dare  say  I  shall  do  it  very  well.  Do  go 
on,  Lily." 

"  I  do  not  think  my  uncle  will  let  you,  Johnny  ; 
you  know  he  does  not  like  such  things,"  said  Ger- 
trude. 

"  Well,  Lily,  you  know  papa  himself  dislikes  all 
sorts  of  mimicking  and  ridiculing  people,  and  has 
often  told  you  not  to  do  it,"  said  Vernon. 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  replied  Lilias  crossly ; 
"  surely  you  need  not  interfere.  You  did  not  say 
a  word,  and  told  me  to  go  on,  until  Gertrude  ob- 
jected." 

"  Because  I  forgot,"  replied  Vernon.  "  If  you 
choose  to  go  on  you  can,  but  I  shall  not  listen  ;" 
and,  walking  towards  the  table  where  Gertrude  had 


THE    LITTLE    MIMIC.  55 

seated  herself,  he  withdrew  from  the  part  of  the 
room  where  the  little  mimic  was  performing. 

But  Lilias  was  so  elated  by  the  praise  she  had 
received,  that  she  would  not  be  daunted  by  her 
brother's  disapproval,  and  proceeded  with  her  dan- 
gerous sport. 

It  so  happened  that  poor  little  Rosamond  Bright, 
one  of  the  children  who  had  been  of  the  birthday 
party,  was  slightly  deformed,  and  had  some  odd 
tricks  and  ways  with  her  face  and  limbs.  Lilias 
now  stuck  out  lier  shoulder,  put  her  head  on  one 
side,  pushed  forward  licr  chin,  and  stuck  her  tongue 
into  her  cheek  in  a  manner  so  like  poor  little  Rose, 
that  no  one  could  mistake  whom  she  meant  to  repre- 
sent. She  then  began  to  walk  about  with  a  queer 
slouching  gait,  and  speak  in  a  voice  so  like  Rose's, 
that  Johnny  and  Josephine  were  in  fits  of  laughter. 
Edward  would  not  show  how  much  he  was  amused, 
for  he  knew  that  Lily  was  doing  wrong,  but  at  the 
same  time  did  not  choose  to  let  Vernon  suppose 
that  he  was  influenced  by  his  opinion,  and  therefore 
remained  a  spectator. 

Lily,  delighted  by  her  success,  and  inflated  by 
vanity  (for  the  children  had  at  once  recognized  the 
likeness  to  Rose  Bright),  was  going  on  exaggerating 
her  movements,  and  talking  all  sorts  of  nonsense, 


56  BLIND    LILIAS. 

when,  to  her  infinite  dismay,  on  suddenly  turning 
round,  she  discovered  that  she  had  two  additional 
spectators  to  her  performance — her  father  and 
Maud.  In  an  instant  all  her  assumed  manner  was 
thrown  off,  and,  self-convicted,  Lilias  stood  blushing 
and  confused  in  the  midst  of  the  circle. 

The  other  children  in  a  measure  partook  of  her 
shame,  for  their  consciences  told  them  that  the 
amusement  in  which  they  had  been  engaged  was 
one  that  Mr.  Hope  would  disapprove. 


VI. 

THEl  Fi^THSR^S  REPROOF. 

•'  Oi\0U  are  showing  youi'  little  friends  what  they 
^Vl  may  expect  from  you  when  they  are  no 
longer  present,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  in  a  tone  of 
grave  displeasure  ;  "  and  as  they  all  seem  so  much 
amused  at  the  exhibition  with  which  you  have  been 
favoring  them,  they  will  perhaps  tollow  your  ex- 
ample, and  amuse  their  friends  at  home  by  imitat- 
ing some  of  our  defects  and  peculiarities." 

"  No,  papa,  not  all,"  said  Vernon.  "  Gertrude 
has  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  told  Lilias  that 
it  was  wrong,  and  went  away  when  she  would  not 
stop." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  looking 
approvingly  at  the  little  girl.  "  I  am  always 
pleased  to  find  that  any  of  my  little  friends  have 
sufficient  strength  of  principle  to  enable  them  to 
refrain  from  joining  in  what  they  disapprove, 
although  they  may  not  have  power  to  prevent 
others  from  doing  the  thing  they  condemn.  I  wish 
that  you,  Vernon,  had  followed  Gertrude's  course. 


58  BLIND    LILIAS. 

instead  of  encouraging  your  sister  in  what  you 
knew  was  wrong." 

Vernon  blushed,  and  did  not  reply  ;  but  Lily, 
who  had  a  strong  sense  of  justice,  though  angry 
with  her  brother,  would  not  allow  him  to  be  blamed 
undeservedly,  and  answered  for  him  :  "  Vernon  did, 
papa.  He  said  it  was  wi'ong,  and  that  you  would 
not  like  it,  and  then  went  away  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  and  did  not  look  any  more." 

"But  I  did  laugh  and  encourage  her  at  first, 
papa,"  said  the  ingenuous  boy.  "  I  did  not  think 
about  it  until  Gertrude  spoke." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  did  right  at  last,  my  boy," 
said  Mr.  Hope,  pleased  with  his  candor.  "  But  I 
am  sorry  for  these  little  ones,"  he  continued,  "  very 
sorry  that  my  child's  example  should  have  been  of 
such  bad  tendency.  Johnny,  should  you  like  Lilias 
to  mimic  you  and  Josephine  as  she  did  Rose  Bright 
just  now  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Johnny,  "  not  if  we  were  like 
Rosie ;  but  we  are  not,  and  people  would  not  laugh 
if  she  did  mimic  us." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Hope.  "  But 
how  can  you  be  sure  that  within  a  little  while  you 
may  not  be  as  odd  and  feeble  as  she  is  ?  I  remem- 
ber her  a  pretty,  bright  little  gii'l  as  I  would  wish 


THE  father's  reproof.  59 

to  see.  Then  she  had  scarlet  fever,  and  was  very 
near  death.  She  recovered  slowly  ;  but  the  fever 
had  left  her  as  she  now  is — her  poor  little  neck 
contracted,  her  leg  shrunk,  and  her  mind  so  weak- 
ened that  she  could  scarcely  understand  anything." 

The  children  looked  shocked  ;  and  Lilias,  looking 
up  with  a  burning  cheek,  exclaimed,  "  O  papa,  I  am 
so  sorry  !  If  I  had  known  that,  I  should  never 
have  mimicked  her." 

"  Your  want  of  knowledge  of  the  facts  I  have 
just  told  you,  is  no  excuse  for  you,  my  love.  You 
well  know  that  I  have  often  forbidden  that  most 
dangerous  amusement  of  mimicking  others,  and 
told  you  that  it  was  uncharitable  and  injurious. 
You  are  shocked  now  that  you  know  how  poor  lit- 
tle Rose  became  such  as  she  is ;  but  a  moment's 
thought  will  tell  you  that  no  one  is  so  by  choice, 
and  that  if  it  has  pleased  God  to  afflict  any  one 
with  any  deformity,  that  is  not  a  subject  for  jest 
and  ridicule.  '  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  they 
should  do  unto  you,'  is  a  precept  which,  if  obeyed, 
would  be  a  sure  check  on  all  mimicking.  It  is 
never  pleasant  to  have  any  little  peculiarities  that 
we  may  possess  pointed  out  and  made  a  subject  for 
ridicule.  How  would  you  like  to  see  any  one 
mocking  me,  Lilv,  and  making  fun  of  mo  ?" 


60  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  They  should  not  do  it,  papa,  if  I  were  there  ; 
they  could  not  do  such  a  thing,  for  there  is  nothing 
to  make  fun  of  in  you,"  replied  Lilias,  indignant 
at  the  very  idea  of  such  an  insult  to  her  darling 
father. 

"  I  do  not  see  why,  my  child.  There  is  no  one 
whom  ridicule  cannot  touch.  Those  who  mimic 
one  will  as  readily  mimic  another.  It  is  no  matter 
to  the  professed  mimics  whether  the  person  be  good 
or  bad,  wise  or  foolish ;  whether  the  peculiarities 
that  supply  them  with  an  object  for  their  amuse- 
ment are  the  result  of  his  own  folly  or  of  a  dispen- 
sation from  the  hand  of  God,  is  all  the  same  to 
them.     They  do  not  stop  to  think. 

"  But  come,"  he  continued,  thinking  that  sufficient 
impression  had  been  made,  "I  hope  I  shall  never 
see  any  of  you  commit  a  similar  fault,  and  we  will 
not  now  say  any  more  about  it.  Tell  me  what  you 
are  going  to  do  next." 

"  Oh,  we  were  each  to  do  something  in  turn  to 
amuse  the  rest,"  replied  Edward  ;  "  Vernon  sang  a 
song,  Gertrude  told  a  story,  I  gave  a  riddle,  and 
tlien  Lily  was  mimicking,  and  next,  Johnny  was 
going  to  do  a  farm-yard  " 

"Do  a  farm-yard  f  inquired  Mr  Hope,  "what 
does  that  mean  V 


THE    father's    reproof.  ()1 

"  Why,  you  must  first  tell  me  if  it  is  wrong  to 
imitate  cocks  and  hens,  and  geese,  and  donkeys, 
and  so  on,"  asked  Johnny. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  little  man,"  replied  Mr  Hope, 
laughing.  "  Cocks  and  hens,  and  geese,  and  don- 
keys, are  not  at  all  likely  to  have  their  feelings 
wounded  by  you  imitating  their  noises ;  it  is  only 
human  beings  that  I  meant  to  warn  you  against 
imitating." 

"  Then  I  must  leave  out  the  chickens  and  the 
cows,  because  I  cannot  do  them  without  doing  Susan 
calling  them,  you  know,  and  that  would  be  doing 
human  beings,"  replied  Johnny. 

Mr.  Hope  explained  that  Johnny  might  safely 
imitate  the  voice  of  the  servant  calling  the  chickens 
and  cows,  and  said,  "  I  think  this  would  be  a  fair 
test  of  whether  you  may  imitate  any  voice  or  sound 
— ask  yourself  this  question,  '  Should  I  be  vexed,  if 
I  were  to  find  that  the  person  or  thing  I  am  imitat- 
ing was  present  and  heard  me  V  If  you  would  dis- 
like the  idea  of  being  overheard,  either  by  the  per- 
son represented,  or  his  friends,  do  not  do  it,  but  if 
it  is  a  thing  you  could  freely  do  in  their  presence, 
without  offending  them,  you  may  be  quite  safe. 
Now,  how  is  it  in  this  case?  would  you  imitato 
Susan  in  her  presence  ?'' 


63  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Johnny  and  Josephine,  in  a 
breath.  "  He  always  does  it  when  she  is  there,  and 
she  laughs  so  when  he  makes  the  sounds  of  the 
chickens  squabbling  and  scrambling  for  their  food, 
and  her  voice  scolding  them,"  added  the  little  girl. 

"  Very  good  then,"  replied  Mr.  Hope,  "  let  us 
have  the  farm-yard  by  all  means ;"  and  Johnny, 
thus  encouraged,  began  his  scene.  Truly  his  imita- 
tions of  the  brute  creation  were  as  life-like  and 
clever  as  Lily's  of  human  beings,  and  far  less  dan- 
gerous ;  he  neighed,  and  brayed,  and  cackled,  and 
quacked,  until  all  the  children  were  in  roars  of 
laughter,  and  Mr.  Hope  and  Maud  fully  joining  in 
the  mirth.  Then  he  performed  the  voice  of  Susan 
calling  the  poultry,  and  the  rush  and  clamor  of  the 
mixed  multitude  of  ducks  and  fowls  scrambling  for 
their  food,  and  ended  by  imitating  Susan's  call  to 
the  cows,  and  their  answering  lowing,  at  first  dis- 
tant, and  then  nearer  and  nearer,  and  finally  the 
sound  of  the  milking,  concluding  the  whole  by  sud- 
denly turning  head  over  heels  ! 

Johnny's  share  in  amusing  the  circle  was  most 
satisfactory,  and  then  came  Josephine's  turn;  but 
she  was  shy,  and  would  not  do  anything,  until 
Johnny  offered  to  sing  with  her,  and  then  the  little 


THE  father's  reproof.  63 

twins  sang   a  pretty  little   playful   conversational 
duet,  which  pleased  all  the  party, 

Maud  was  now  called  on  for  her  promised  con- 
tribution. ''  Would  she  tell  them  a  story  1  would 
she  sing  ?"  "  No  !"  Maud  said  she  thought  they 
had  better  have  a  good  game  of  play,  and  she  would 
help  them  in  anything  they  liked ;  so,  as  it  was  too 
warm  for  any  romping  games,  "  post "  was  decided 
on,  and  Mabel  being  summoned,  Mr.  Hope  took  the 
office  of  postman,  and  a  most  merry  game  they  had, 
which  lasted  until  the  call  to  bed  broke  up  the  little 
party  for  the  evening. 


VII. 

THE  BROKSIT  YASS. 

^EVERAL  days  had  passed  very  pleasantly, 
(^^  but  the  time  for  the  departm-e  of  the  little 
visitors  at  length  arrived,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
D'Urban  were  expected  to  fetch  their  little  ones  and 
Gertrude  on  Thursday,  when  they  would  have  been 
a  whole  week  at  the  Grange.  The  weather  had 
cleared,  and  for  the  last  two  days  had  been  so  fine 
that  the  children  had  been  almost  entirely  out  of 
doors ;  and  riding  the  pony,  faeding  the  tame  deer 
and  rabbits,  and  other  such  amusements,  had  quite 
superseded  the  dolls  and  all  their  belongings ;  and 
nothing  now  was  heard  of  Willie  or  the  hooping- 
cough.  Lilias  and  Johnny,  whose  minds  were  much 
of  the  same  sprightly  nature,  had  made  a  close  alli- 
ance, and  were  inseparable  friends,  rather  to  the 
exclusion  of  Josephine,  who,  they  said,  was  "  a  muff," 
and  didn't  half  play — a  fiiult  that  certainly  could 
not  with  truth  be  charged  on  Lilias  or  her  new 
friend;  for  they  played  and  did  everything  else 
with  an  ardor  that  left  all  the  others   far   behind. 


THE    BROKEN    VASE.  65 

Josephine  had  therefore  been  obliged  to  seek  a  play  - 
mate  and  consoler  in  Maud  ;  whilst  Mabel,  Vernon, 
Gertrude,  and  Edward  had  employed  themselves  in 
taking  long  walks,  with  the  view  of  collecting  fossil 
madrepores,  and  other  pebbles,  on  the  shore.  Ev- 
ery one  was  pleased  with  Gertrude,  She  was  so 
thoughtful  and  sensible  as  to  make  an  agreeable  and 
conversable  companion  for  the  elder  members  of 
the  family,  and  at  the  same  time  so  lively  and  play- 
ful, and  so  thoroughly  good-tempered,  that  the  little 
ones  were  never  so  Avell  pleased  as  when  she  was 
their  playfellow.  "  Gertrude  will  do  it  for  us  " — 
"  Gerty  knows  how,  she  will  help  us,"  was  heard 
from  all  in  turn.  And  the  little  girl  was  so  ready 
and  willing  to  help,  so  capable  and  clever,  and 
withal  so  simple  and  unpretending,  that  she  never 
took  advantage  of  her  popularity  to  give  herself 
airs,  or  be  fanciful,  or  conceive  that  she  was  a  per 
son  of  importance,  but  did  the  thing  she  was  asked 
to  do  at  once,  and  then  returned  to  her  own  employ- 
ments without  seeming  to  look  for  thanks  or  praise. 
Probably  the  secret  cause  of  all  this  lay  in  the 
flxct  that  Gertrude  was  a  Christian  child  in  more 
than  name.  She  read  her  Bible  with  a  view  to 
learning  God's  will ;  she  prayed  that  she  might  un- 
derstand it,  and  she  daily  sought  the  aid  of  that 
6*' 


66  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Holy  Spirit  by  whose  help  alone  she  could  hope  fx> 
do  God's  will.  Gertrude  both  prayed  and  watched. 
She  was  good  because  she  went  to  God,  the  Source 
of  goodness,  asking  to  be  made  so ;  she  was  useful 
because  she  tried  to  be  so,  and  did  not  let  her  own 
self-pleasing  stand  in  the  way  of  the  comfort  of 
others,  but  was  always  ready  to  do  anything  for  any 
one  to  the  best  of  her  power. 

"  But  it  was  not  this  that  made  her  so  clever  ?"  is 
a  question  some  child  may  ask. — No ;  reading  the 
Bible  and  praying  did  not  make  her  clever,  but  it 
helped  her  to  use  the  gifts  that  God  had  given  her 
aright ;  it  made  her  feel  it  her  duty  steadily  to  over- 
come difficulties,  to  give  her  mind  to  her  lesson,  and 
to  try  to  do  her  best,  and  therefore  she  made  more 
progress  in  learning  than  many  a  little  girl  who  has 
more  natural  cleverness  than  she  had,  succeeds  in 
doing.  Besides  this,  there  is  nothing  that  helps 
people  to  do  things  well  so  much  as  a  hearty  and 
earnest  desire  to  do  so,  and  this  Gertrude  always 
had.  She  had  a  willing  heart — and  a  willing  heart 
makes  a  ready  hand. 

Thursday  was  come,  and  all  the  young  party, 
eager  to  make  the  most  of  the  little  time  that 
remained,  were  early  astir ;  and  as  soon  as  the 
morning  reading  was  over,  they  all   started  off  in 


THE    BROKEN    VASE.  0  1 

different  directions.  Johnny  had  made  a  pea-gun, 
and  Lily  was  wild  about  shooting  ;  so  the  two  ran 
off  hand  in  hand,  and  Josephine  after  them  ;  but  the 
other  two  were  too  quick  for  her ;  and  she  there- 
fore wandered  off  to  the  nursery  to  have  a  last 
game  with  the  dolls,  under  nurse's  auspices — her 
o\vn  nurse,  Anna,  being  busy  packing  up  their 
clothes.  Maud,  Mabel,  Vernon,  and  Gertrude  were 
gone  to  the  shore  to  search  for  a  pink  fossil  sponge, 
Vemion  having  picked  up  a  beautiful  specimen  and 
given  it  to  Mabel,  and  Gertrude  being  very  anx. 
ious  to  get  one  like  it.  The  beach  where  it  was 
found  lay  but  just  below  the  house,  and  was  acces- 
sible through  the  garden  of  the  Grange,  so  that  they 
could  all  run  up  and  down  at  will,  and  be  in  the 
house  in  two  minutes  from  the  time  they  left  the 
beach.  Mr.  Hope  soon  joined  the  pebbling  party, 
and  Lilias  and  her  friend,  weary  of  shooting  peas 
and  sand  into  the  sea,  ran  off  to  seek  some  other 
amusement. 

Maud  had  a  beautiful  collection  of  sea-anemones 
and  other  marine  animals  ;  and  to  attend  to  this,  to 
watch  the  habits  of  the  animals,  and  add  from  time 
to  time  to  their  numbers,  was  one  of  her  chief  de- 
lights. She  had  two  establishments — one  a  large 
tank  with  fish  and  many  varieties  of  anemones ;  the 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


other  a  small  and  very  elegant  vase,  in  which  she 
kept  all  her  rarest  and  smallest  specim.ens,  madre- 
pores, balani,  etc.  The  little  vase  was  now  rich  in 
possession  of  some  very  beautiful  specimens  of  nu- 
dibranchs — a  class  of  slug-like  animals,  which  are 
furnished  with  a  breathing  apparatus  on  the  outside 
of  the  body,  which  is  sometimes  in  the  form  of  a 
coronet  of  tubes  like  feathers,  and  sometimes  in 
other  forms,  but  always  very  beautiful,  generally  of 
bright  colors.  These  animals  are  very  delicate,  and 
if  roughly  handled,  or  in  any  way  mismanaged,  they 
are  sure  to  die.  Maud  was  justly  proud  of  her  col- 
lection ;  and  it  was  strictly  forbidden  that  any  one 
of  the  children  should  touch  the  vase  in  which  they 
were.  It  stood  on  a  table  in  the  oriel  window  of 
the  great  drawing-room. 

Exceedingly  busy,  and  much  interested  in  their 
search  for  pebbles,  it  was  a  long  time  before  any  of 
the  party  thought  of  retreating  to  the  house.  They 
found  several  fine  specimens  of  the  kinds  they 
wanted ;  and  amongst  others,  Gertrude  herself  was 
so  lucky  as  to  pick  up  the  very  thing  for  which  she 
was  so  anxious — a  pink  sponge  as  fine,  or  even  finer 
than  Mabel's ;  and  then  Mr.  Hope,  looking  at  his 
watch,  announced  that  it  was  full  time  for  them  to 


THE    BROKEN    VASE.  69 

go  in  ;  and  the  little  party,  with  their  baskets  laden 
with  spoil,  turned  homewards. 

They  had  not  got  more  than  half-way  to  the  house, 
when  Maud  heard  herself  loudly  called,  and  looking 
on,  she  saw  one  of  the  servants  running  towards 
her  and  calling,  "  Oh,  Miss  Hope,  your  beautiful 
things  is  all  spoiled !  The  water's  all  runned  out 
all  over  the  floor,  and  all  the  fishes  is  dead,  I  'm 
afraid." 

Exceedingly  vexed  and  annoyed,  Maud  hastened 
on,  followed,  of  course,  by  the  whole  party.  It  was 
as  the  servant  had  said.  The  whole  ground  below 
the  smaller  tank  was  soaked  with  water,  and  though 
the  vase  still  stood  on  its  stand,  and  the  stones  and 
animals  in  it,  it  was  evident  the  water  had  long  been 
drained  off,  and  that  they  had  been  left  dry,  and 
were  probably  dead.  Williams  brought  a  pan  of 
fresh  sea-water,  into  which  Maud  hastily  put  the 
stones  and  shells  on  which  her  pretty  favorites  lay, 
and  then  inspected  the  vase.  In  the  bottom  she 
found  a  starred  crack,  with  a  small  hole  in  the  cen- 
tre, which  had  evidently  been  made  by  a  blow, 

"  Who  can  have  done  it  1  "  said  Maud,  after  she 
had  well  examined  the  state  of  the  vase  and  animals. 
"  I  am  so  very  sorry." 

"  It  must  have  been  one  of  the  children  "  said 


70  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Mr.  Hope.  "  Have  any  of  them  been  playing  here 
to-day  1  " 

"  It 's  master  Johnny,  I  think,  sir,"  said  Williams  ; 
"  I  saw  liim  coming  out  of  the  room  this  morning 
about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock." 

"  By  himself,  Williams  1 "  asked  Maud. 

"  Yes,  Miss,  he  was  alone,  and  he  had  his  little 
pea-gun  in  his  hand,"  replied  Williams. 

"  And  here's  two  peas  on  the  ground,"  exclaimed 
a  servant  who  was  wiping  the  carpet ;  "  here,  just 
down  under  the  glass." 

Johnny  was  now  summoned.  He  was  found 
alone  in  the  garden,  nurse  having  called  in  his  play- 
fellow to  be  dressed  for  dinner.  He  was  still  amus- 
ing himself  with  the  gun,  and  brought  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Johnny,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  "  did  you  do 
this  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Johnny,  "  I  did  not." 

"  Are  you  sure  1 "  asked  Mabel ;  "  you  see  here 
are  two  of  your  peas  close  by ;  I  think  you  must 
have  done  it,  Johnny." 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  the  room  this  mor- 
ning, my  dear  1 "  inquired  Mr.  Hope. 

"  Nothing,  I  have  not  been  here  to-day.  Oh  yes  ! 
I  did  though  just  come  in  to  look  for  Lily,"  said 
Johnny  ;  *'  but  I  did  not  break  the  thing." 


THE    BROKEN    VASE.  71 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Mr.  Hope ;  "  think  again, 
Johnny — perhaps  you  strucit  it  by  accident  and 
did  not  know  that  you  had  broken  it.  What  did 
you  do,  love  1  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Johnny,  "  I  only  came  in  and 
went  out  again,  and  I  did  not  break  it;  "and  the 
little  fellow  looked  proudly  round  the  circle,  and 
seeing,  as  he  fancied,  doubt  of  his  truth  on  one  or 
two  faces,  began  to  get  very  angry,  and  added, 
"  I  've  told  you  so  before,  and  if  you  do  not  choose 
to  believe  me,  you  can  let  it  alone." 

But  opinions  evidently  went  hard  against  poor 
Johnny,  Circumstances  were  against  him,  and  the 
servants  and  some  of  the  others  seemed  to  believe 
him  guilty. 

Mr.  Hope  stood  in  serious  thought.  It  was  not 
that  he  was  anxious  to  discover  who  had  done  the 
mischief,  but  he  was  doubtful  whether  the  little  boy 
spoke  the  truth,  and  was  unwilling  either  to  cast  a 
doubt  on  one  who  did  not  deserve  it,  or  to  allow 
fixlsehood  to  pass  triumphant. 

But  Gertrude  now  stood  forward  and  said,  "  I 
don't  think  he  did  it,  Mr.  Hope.  Johnny  always 
tells  the  truth,  and  if  he  had,  he  would  have  said  so." 

As  she  spoke  the  chikl  looked  gratefully  at  her, 
slipped  round  and  took  her  hand,  and  then,  his  proud 


72 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


feeling  subdued  by  one  of  a  softer  character,  burst 
into  tears.  "  You  did  not  do  it,  Johnny  ?  "  said  she, 
bending  down  to  him  and  speaking  low. 

"  No  !  I  did  not,"  replied  Johnny. 

"  I  am  sure  you  did  not,  my  boy,"  said  Mr. 
Hope.  "  One  who  always  tells  the  truth  is  not  to  be 
doubted — we  all  fully  believe  you,  Johnny." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  servant 
announced  Mr.  and  Mrs.  D'Urban.  Johnny  flew 
to  them,  and  an  explanation  ensued  of  the  cause  of 
Johnny's  tearful  countenance.  His  father  and 
mother  corroborated  Gertrude's  testimony ;  and 
Josephine  being  called,  the  three  little  visitors  went 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs,  D'Urban  into  another  room, 
whilst  Mr.  Hope  and  his  children  made  themselves 
ready  for  dinner. 

In  the  drawing-room,  when  all  were  assembled, 
the  subject  of  the  broken  vase  was  again  discussed. 
There  were  many  suggestions  as  to  how  the  accident 
had  occurred.  Mr.  Hope  had  forbidden  any  question- 
ing of  the  other  children,  as  he  felt  disturbed  at  hav- 
ing so  vexed  poor  Johnny,  and  was  unwilling  to 
create  a  like  distress  in  any  of  the  others. 

Lilias,  who  had  been  rather  delayed  by  nurse's 
having  to  help  arrange  the  dress  and  hair  of  the 
other  children,  was  the  last  to  enter  the  room,  and 


THE    BROKEN    VASE.  73 

join  the  circle.  She  had  not  before  heard  of  the 
accident,  and  as  she  listened  to  the  conversation, 
she  blushed  deeply  and  cast  her  eyes  down  to  the 
ground.  "  I  think  now  it  must  have  been  Johnny," 
said  Edward  in  a  low  voice  to  Vernon  as  they  both 
stood  by  Lilias. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  replied  his  brother;  "he 
says  he  did  not." 

"  Yes ;  but  it  is  not  sure  that  he  would  own  it  if 
he  did.  Don't  you  remember  how  James  Thorpe 
denied  having  broken  the  Doctor's  fuchsia,  and  he 
did  it  after  all,  and  was  obliged  to  own  it  too  1 " 

What  answer  Vernon  would  have  made  was 
never  known.  Lilias  had  by  this  time  gathered  the 
facts,  that  the  vase  had  been  broken,  and  that 
Johnny  had  been  accused  of  breaking  it — that  he 
had  denied  it,  but  was  not  believed.  Blushing  and 
distressed,  yet  resolute  in  her  purpose,  the  little 
girl  stepped  forward  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  the 
circle  of  friends  and  strangers. 

"  Papa !  Maud  !"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  it  was  I  that 
broke  the  glass,  at  least  I  think  so ;  I  am  almost 
cure  of  it." 

''  You,  Lily!  and  did  not  own  it  before?"  said 
her  father. 

7 


74  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  I  only  now  heard  that  it  was  broken,  papa," 
replied  she. 

"  And  yet  you  say  that  you  broke  it.  How  can 
that  be,  my  dear  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Hope. 

Lilias  blushed  even  deeper  than  before,  and  was 
silent. 

"  Explain  yourself,  Lilias,  what  is  it  you  mean, 
my  dear  ?  Do  not  be  so  frightened,  my  love ; 
only  speak  out  plainly,"  said  her  father. 

"  I  mean,  papa,"  i-eplied  Lilias,  "  that  I  was  look- 
ing at  the  pretty  little  things  that  swim  on  the  top 
of  the  water,  those  little  things  like  slugs,  only 
bright  colored,  and  one  of  the  prettiest  sunk  down 
into  the  water  and  got  under  a  stone,  and  I  wanted 
to  make  it  swim  again,  and  so  I  took  up  the  stone 
to  let  it  out,  and  another  stone  slipped,  and  I  heard 
a  little  crack,  and  was  frightened  because  I  thought 
I  had  broken  the  glass.  But  the  water  did  not 
come  out,  and  I  did  not  see  any  crack,  so  I  thought 
it  was  not  broken,  and  came  away." 

"But,  my  dear  little  girl,"  said  Mrs.  D'Urban, 
kindly,  "  it  was  in  that  case  a  mere  accident,  and 
you  should  not  look  so  distressed ;  I  am  sure  your 
sister  will  not  be  angry." 

"  But  I  was  told  not  to  touch  the  vase,  and  I  did," 
was  Lily's  half-whispered  reply. 


THE    BROKEN    VASE.  75 

"  Yes,  dear  child,"  replied  her  father,  "  that  was 
the  fault.  The  breaking  the  vase  was  an  accident, 
but  the  act  of  disobedience  was  a  fault.  But  I  am 
glad  that  you  see  that  yourself,  and  therefore  will  not 
say  anything  more  about  it,  except  that  I  shall  ex- 
pect you  to  pay  something  every  week  out  of  your 
allowance  for  two  months,  to  assist  in  replacing 
your  sister's  glass,  which  has  been  broken  through 
your  fault." 

"  Oh,  papa,"  said  Maud,  "  I  do  not  wish  it ;  don't 
make  her." 

"  It  will  be  a  good  way  of  keeping  her  in  remem- 
brance of  a  fault  that  must  be  conquered,  my  love, 
and  I  must  enforce  this  punishment,"  replied  Mr. 
Hope.  "  I  should  never  punish  for  an  accident,  but 
self-will  and  disobedience  must  bring  their  own  re- 
ward." 

Lilias  was  too  sensible  and  right-minded  not  to 
understand  and  approve  her  father's  decision,  and 
fully  acquiesced  in  it. 

And  now  dinner  was  announced ;  and  after  that 
meal  had  been  despatched,  papa  and  mamma  were 
shown  all  the  dolls  and  the  ponies  and  the  other 
things  which  had  proved  the  delights  of  the  last  few 
days,  and  then  walked  over  every  part  of  the 
grounds  and  to  the  beach.     An  early  tea  was  then 


76  BLIND    LILIAS. 

taken,  and  the  little  visitors  set  out,  in  the  cool  of 
the  sweet  summer  evening,  to  return  to  their  home, 
leaving  Lily  wondering  what  she  should  do  without 
her  dear  Johnny. 

To  Maud's  great  satisfaction,  and  even  still  more 
so  to  Lilias',  most  of  Maud's  beautiful  and  rare  an- 
imals recovered  in  the  fresh  water.  The  wet  weed 
had  helped  to  keep  them  alive,  and  when  the  girls 
went  to  look  at  them,  they  found  the  pretty  crea- 
tures most  of  them  swimming  about  and  quite  re- 
covered. Maud  would  fain  have  had  Lilias  excused 
the  fine  her  father  had  laid  on  her,  but  Mr.  Hope 
required  that  it  should  be  paid,  and  the  little  girl's 
self-will  certainly  was  a  good  deal  lessened,  whilst 
from  week  to  week  she  was  thus  reminded  of  the 
evils  of  disobedience. 


VIII. 

LILIAS  STHICKKXT. 

C*i^4ITII  such  strong  passions  and  marked  charac- 
'^VV  teristics  as  those  which  were  developing  in 
the  child  whom  he  so  dearly  loved,  Mr. 
Hope  could  not  be  otherwi^^e  than  anxious  as  to  her 
future  tone  of  mind  and  character.  Her  extreme 
vivacity,  strong  selfwill,  and  pride,  together  with 
her  craving  desire  to  be  first,  most  loved,  most  ad- 
mired, most  thought  of,  gave  him  great  fears  lest 
she  should  grow  into  a  self-centred  and  unamiable 
woman.  Many  were  his  consultntions  with  Maud, 
as  to  what  measures  could  be  adopted  in  order  to 
subdue  her  pride,  and  guide  her  to  the  right  use  of 
the  very  remarkable  talents  with  which  God  had 
graciously  endowed  her,  but  which  at  present 
seemed  to  lead  her  rather  to  evil  than  to  good,  by 
drawing  on  her  the  notice  of  friends  and  visitors, 
and  obtaining  for  her  a  larger  share  of  praise  and 
notice  than  was  at  all  good  for  her.  But  notwith- 
standing her  many  faults,  some  of  which  have  al- 
ready shown  themselves  in  the  few  scenes  in  which 
7* 


78  BLIND    LILIAS. 

our  little  heroine  has  been  introduced,  Lilias  was  so 
loving  and  affectionate,  so  true  and  candid,  and 
withal  such  a  loveable  child,  that  her  father  and  sis- 
ters felt,  that  although  there  was  much  in  her  na- 
ture that  needed  correction,  there  were  nevertheless 
such  fine  points  of  character  manifested  in  her,  as 
to  give  reasons  for  hope  that  she  would  by  God's 
grace  eventually  become  all  they  could  wish. 

But  still  the  guardianship  and  guidance  of  such  a 
mind  was  to  her  father  a  task  of  considerable 
anxiety,  and  called  for  much  thought  and  earnest 
prayer  for  Divine  teaching  and  help  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  solemn  duty  he  owed  his  child. 

And  these  faithful  prayers  were  indeed  abun- 
dantly answered,  though  it  was  in  a  way  that  he 
had  not  anticipated,  and  one  which  led  her  and  all 
who  loved  her  through  deep  waters  and  amidst 
heavy  billows.  One  day,  in  the  summer  succeed- 
ing that  in  which  we  have  introduced  our  readers 
to  the  family  at  Coorabhurst  Grange,  Mr.  Hope 
went  with  his  children  to  spend  a  day  amongst 
the  rocks  and  cliffs  which  so  magnificently  bound 
the  southern  coast  of  Devonshire,  and  oflfer  such 
beautiful  and  varied  scenes  to  those  who  will  seek 
them.  They  went  in  a  boat ;  and  landing  at  a  pic- 
turesque little  cove,  after  amusing  themselves  for 


LILIA8    STRICKEN.  79 

some  time  in  searching  for  varieties  of  sea  animals 
and  weeds  with  which  to  replenish  Maud's  aqua- 
rium, they  climbed  over  the  rocks  to  a  second  beach 
which  lay  a  little  beyond,  leaving  the  boat  and  boat- 
men to  await  their  return. 

Whilst  thus  wandering,  a  sudden  and  violent 
thunder-storm  arose.  The  crash  of  the  thunder  and 
the  awful  flashes  of  lightning,  together  with  the 
dash  of  the  sea,  which  was  lashed  suddenly  into 
foaming  billows,  and  broke  wildly  amongst  the 
rocks  close  to  them,  terrified  the  girls  exceed". igly  ; 
and  Mr.  Hope,  seeing  a  cavern  above  high-water 
mark,  and  not  far  fi'om  them,  hastened  to  get  them 
into  the  shelter  it  afforded.  He  had  placed  Maud 
and  Lilias  within  it,  and  was  returning  down  the 
rocks  to  assist  Mabel,  who,  with  her  usual  eager- 
ness and  activity,  had  already  ascended  half-way  to 
meet  him,  when  a  sudden  slip  of  her  foot  precipi- 
tated her  over  the  edge  of  the  shelf  of  rock  which 
she  had  just  reached.  A  scream  from  Mabel,  and 
a  hurried  exclamation  from  her  terrified  father, 
reached  the  ears  of  the  girls  within  the  cave,  and 
both  started  forward  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
At  that  moment  a  clap  of  thunder  more  heavy  than 
any  they  had  before  iieard,  accompanied  by  a  most 
vivid  flash  of  forked  lightning,  broke  immediately 


80  BUN'D    LILIAN. 

over  their  heads,  and  Lilias  fell  senseless  to  the 
ground,  just  as  Mr.  Hope  disappeared  over  the  rock 
to  render  his  assistance  to  Mabel. 

Maud  sprang  forwards,  and  lifting  the  inanimate 
form  of  her  little  sister  in  her  arms,  bore  it  into  the 
shelter  of  the  cavern ;  for  large  drops  of  rain  now 
began  to  fall ;  and  having  placed  her  in  a  safe  posi- 
tion, she  dipped  some  water  from  one  of  the  little 
pools  which  a  former  high  tide  had  left,  and  began 
to  sprinkle  and  bathe  the  child's  fice  and  hands 
with  it,  thinking  that  she  had  but  fainted  from  ter- 
ror, and  would  soon  recover.  But  all  was  in  vain  ; 
Lilias  showed  no  signs  of  life,  and  having  no  other 
means  of  restoration  at  hand,  Maud  left  her  lying 
in  the  cave,  and  ran  on  towards  the  point  where 
they  had  seen  ^Ir.  Hope  disappear,  to  call  him  to 
their  aid. 

Her  position  was  indeed  a  trying  one — her  anx- 
iety about  Lilias  could  not  wholly  supersede  her 
fears  for  Mabel,  and  as  she  stood  on  that  solitary 
spot,  and  shouted  for  help  to  those  who  she  feared 
v/ere  themselves  needing  assistance,  her  heart 
almost  sunk  within  her.  But  Maud  was  steadfost 
in  faith,  and  lifted  up  her  heart  to  God  fur  strength, 
and  soon  was  she  rejoiced  by  the  sight  of.her  father 
and   Mabel,  ascending  by  a  move  easy  path  than 


L]1.IAS    STRICKEN.  81 

that  which  they  had  at  first  taken,  Mabel  had  sus- 
tained but  slight  injury  from  her  fall,  and  soon  all 
were  gathered  round  ihc  apparently  dead  child, 
each  striving  in  different  ways  to  restore  her  to 
consciousnoss. 

"  Had  you  not  better  go  and  bid  the  boatmen 
come  round  from  the  other  cove,  papa  V  said 
Maud.  "The  storm  is  over,  and  we  will  watch 
Lily  until  you  return  to  cany  her  down.  The 
sooner  we  can  get  home  the  better," 

"  How  can  I  leave  you  here  alone,  my  dears  f 
replied  Mr,  Hope;  "and  yet,  I  know  nothing  bet- 
ter that  I  can  do," 

"  Let  me  go,  papa,"  said  Maud.  "  I  can  easily 
get  across,  and  meanwhile,  you  can  carry  Lily 
down  the  rocks,  and  be  ready  to  put  her  into  the 
boat  the  moment  it  comes  round,  and  I  can  call  at 
that  cottage  we  passed,  and  bring  some  fresh  water 
at  any  rate,  if  not  other  restoratives." 

Unwilling  as  Mr.  Hope  was  to  send  Maud  thus 
alone,  ho  felt  that  her  plan  was  the  best  that  could 
be  adopted,  and  she  hastened  awa}^ ;  whilst  he, 
raising  the  child  in  his  arms,  and  folding  the  little 
lifeless  form  to  his  bosom,  began  to  convey  her 
down  to  the  shore.  The  motion,  or  the  tender 
pressure   of  liis  arms,  at  la-;t  a\v<ike  T/iIias  to  some 


82  BLIND    LILIAS. 

degree  of  sensation ;  she  sighed  heavily  again 
and  again,  and  at  last  a  tear  began  to  roll  over  her 
cheek. 

"  Thank  God  !  thank  God !"  exclaimed  her  father, 
"  she  lives  !"  and  laying  her  on  a  bank  of  shingle, 
with  her  head  on  Mabel's  lap,  he  again  dashed  water 
from  the  pools  over  hei*,  and  had  the  blessing  of 
seeing  that,  although  she  was  still  unconscious,, yet 
her  deadly  faintness  began  to  yield,  and  a  slight 
tinge  of  color  returned  to  her  cheek.  The  boat 
now  came  up,  and  he  lifting  her  into  it,  Maud's 
arms  received  her  weary  little  form. 

"Now  pull  away,  my  good  fellows,  double  pay 
for  double-quick  work,  and  if  either  of  you  weary, 
give  me  an  oar,  but  only  get  us  quick  home,"  said 
Mr.  Hope  ;  and  thus  enjoined,  although  the  sea  was 
yet  heaving  from  the  influence  of  the  late  storm, 
the  oarmen  did  indeed  "  pull  with  a  will,"  and 
within  an  hour  the  suffering  child  was  laid  on  her 
bed,  in  the  little  room  next  her  father's  that  she  had 
occupied  from  infancy. 

Dr.  Graves,  the  physician  who  attended  the 
flimily,  was  instantly  summoned,  and  was  soon 
earnestly  engaged  in  studying  the  pulse,  skin,  and 
all  other  points  which  might  indicate  the  state  of 
his  little  patient,  whilst  her  father  sisters,  and  good 


LILIA8    STKICKEN.  83 

old  nurse,  stood  silently  awaiting  his  opinion. 
Many  remedies  were  applied,  before  any  result 
beyond  a  faint  moaning,  accompanied  by  a  restless 
movement  of  the  head,  and  twitching  in  the  liinbs, 
was  produced  on  the  poor  inanimate  child ;  and  it 
was  easy  to  see  by  Dr.  Graves'  countenance,  that 
he  had  serious  fears  about  her.  At  length,  how- 
ever, the  poor  little  girl  became  more  composed, 
and  by  degrees  the  twitching  of  the  muscles  sub- 
sided, the  tension  of  the  skin  relaxed,  and  Lily  fell 
into  a  gentle  sleep  :  not,  however,  cpiite  unbroken 
by  starts  and  other  manifestations  of  a  distressed 
nervous  system. 

Leaving  nurse  and  Maud  to  watch  by  the  little 
sleeper,  Mi\  Hope  now  took  the  doctor  aside,  to 
ask  in  private  what  were  his  views  of  Lily's  case, 
and  was  much  relieved  by  the  kind  friend's  assur- 
ance that  he  had  now  little  fear  but  that  she  would 
recover.  He  said,  however,  that  the  system  had 
received  some  very  severe  shock,  and  that  he 
must  watch  over  her  for  some  time  to  come ; 
and,  promising  to  return  in  the  evening,  he  left 
Mr.  Hope  somewhat  comforted,  though  still  very 
anxious. 

"  Lilias  slept  for  some  hours ;  then  awoke  con- 
scious, but  very  feo1)le.     Before  long,  however,  she 


84  IILIND    LI  LI  A  8. 

fell  into  a  stale  which  bordered  on  delirium,  and 
for  many  weeks  struggled  on  between  life  and  death. 
And  sad,  sad  was  the  heart  of  her  father,  sad  too 
the  hearts  of  all  around  the  poor  little  sufferer  :  for 
soon  it  was  plain  to  all,  that  the  lightning  stroke 
that  had  cast  her  to  the  earth,  had  been  the  bearer 
of  a  heavy  message  to  them  all — Lilias  was  blind. 

Her  eyes  were  to  all  appearance  uninjured,  and 
when  she  opened  the  lids  and  seemed  to  look  up, 
none  could  have  imagined  that  the  clear  blue  orbs, 
which  looked  so  lovely  under  their  long  fringing 
lashes  were  sightless,  that  they  would  never  again 
be  the  instrument  of  bringing  objects  before  her 
mind,  and  that  a  long,  long  darkness  lay  before  her 
— long,  in  all  probability,  as  the  term  of  her  mor- 
tal life. 

The  exceeding  wo  of  her  father  when  this  fact 
broke  on  his  mind,  may  be  imagined.  There  was 
no  help  for  him  but  in  his  God.  Yet  Mr,  Hope 
could  say  confidently,  "  I  know  in  whom  I  have  be- 
lieved." He  could  recognize  a  Father's  hand  even 
in  this  dire  affliction  ;  and  from  the  first  moment 
in  which  the  heavy  trial  fell  on  him  no  words  but 
those  of  meek  submission  and  pious  acceptance  of 
his  Father's  will  were  ever  once  heard  from  him. 
And  though  himself  almost  overwhelmed  with  erief. 


LILIAS    STUICKIiN.  85 

it  was  he  who  comforted  the  sorrowing  brothers  and 
sisters ;  it  was  he  who  tried  to  console  poor  nurse, 
who,  broken  down  under  the  sorrow  that  had  fallen 
on  her  darling,  could  not  bo  comforted. 

As  by  slow  degrees  Lilias  recovered  conscious- 
ness and  reason,  she,  as  yet  unconscious  of  the  loss 
she  had  sustained,  repeatedly  asked  for  more  light, 
and  inquired  in  a  half  audi!)le  voice  whether  it  was 
not  almost  morning;  then  Dr.  Graves  desired  that 
a  handkerchief  might  be  lightly  bound  over  the 
eyes,  and  that  she  might  be  told  that  he  had  ordered 
it  as  her  eyes  were  weak,  and  she  must  submit  for 
a  time  to  wear  it.  This  he  did  in  order  to  delay 
her  perception  that  she  was  blind  until  her  recovery 
was  a  little  more  advanced,  and  llu;  poor  child,  too 
weak  to  care  much  about  it,  wore  the  handkerchief 
as  she  was  bidden.  But  by  degrees,  as  she  gained 
strength,  her  father  felt  that  the  hour  he  had  antici- 
pated with  so  much  pain  was  come,  and  gently  and 
tenderly,  after  much  prayer  that  God's  support 
might  be  given  to  her  and  to  himself,  he  broke  the 
sad  news  to  her,  and  besought  her  to  bear  it  pa- 
tiently. Lilias,  poor  child,  would  not  for  a  time 
believe  that  she  was  blind.  She  tore  oW  the  hand- 
kerchief that  had  hitherto  shielded  her  from  (he  sad 
knowledge  which   now  was  so   tenderly  opened  to 

8 


86  BLIND    LILIAS. 

her,  aud  then,  indeed,  she  found  tliat  no  ray  of  light 
visited  her  eyes  ;  and  when,  in  reply  to  her  urgent 
demands  that  she  should  be  told  how  she  came  so, 
and  when  she  should  get  well,  the  story  of  the 
storm  (which  she  had  quite  forgotten)  was  told  her, 
and  her  father  said  that  he  could  not  at  present  hope 
for  any  speedy  recovery,  the  poor  little  girl  gave 
way  to  such  violent  and  impetuous  lamentations 
and  distress,  and  was  so  wholly  overcome,  that  a 
relapse  ensued,  and  for  a  time  she  was  again  very 
ill,  so  that  great  fears  were  entertained  of  her  re- 
covery. When  she  was  again  sufficiently  recov- 
ered to  think  or  speak  on  the  subject,  no  arguments 
or  persuasions  seemed  to  have  any  weight  with  her 
to  induce  her  even  to  try  to  be  submissive  and  pa- 
tien!; ;  and  the  anguish  of  her  father  and  family  was 
greatly  increased  by  the  petulance  with  which  she 
rejected  every  word  of  advice  or  consolation  that 
they  could  offer.  After  a  time,  however,  the  vio- 
lence of  her  despair  yielded  to  a  settled  depression 
of  spirits,  accompanied  hy  a  cold,  impassive  man- 
ner, and  it  was  evident  that  she  had  resolved  in  no 
way  to  endeavor  to  meet  her  trial  patiently,  or 
make  any  effort  to  alleviate  its  force.  She  would 
not  be  induced  to  make  any  attempt  to  assist  her- 


LILIAS    STRICKEN.  87 

self,  or  acquire  any  resources  which  might  enable 
her  to  employ  her  time  comfortably,  but  gave  her- 
self up  to  a  sort  of  sullen  stillness  which  it  was  most 
painful  to  witness.  Such  was  her  state  up  to  the 
time  at  which  our  story  recommences. 


IX. 

cherish™  grief. 

fN  the  comfortable  and  cheerful  drawingroom 
at  Coombhurst  Grange  sat  two  people  ou  one 
fine  evenuig  in  May.  The  casements  were 
open,  and  the  sweet,  soft  air  that  breathed  through 
them  was  laden  with  the  scent  of  many  a  fair 
flower  that  bloomed  w^ithout.  Blackbirds  and 
thrushes,  and  a  thousand  other  birds,  sang  cheerily 
on  the  trees  and  shrubs  that  skirted  the  lawn,  and 
all  nature  seemed  alive  and  gay.  But  the  occupants 
of  the  drawing-room  at  the  Grange  seemed  scarcely 
to  feel  in  unison  with  the  cheerful  scene  without. 
They  were  our  two  old  friends,  Mr.  Hope  and  his 
little  daughter  Lilias.  Mr.  Hope  appeared  to  have 
grown  several  years  older  in  the  course  of  the  few 
months  that  had  jsassed  since  last  we  saw  him. 

His  hair  was  more  sprinkled  with  silver,  his  fine 
countenance  exhibited  traces  of  care  and  suffering, 
and  the  bright  animation  and  even  mirthfulness  of 
look  which  had  always  before  this  time  distinguished 
him,  had  wholly  vanished,  and  a  -grave  and  rather 


CHERISHED    GRIEF.  89 

sad,  though  stiil  calm  and  peaceful,  expression  had 
taken  its  place. 

Lilias  was  even  more  altered  than  her  father. 
She  was  now  a  fair,  delicate-looking  child,  very 
slight  and  even  thin,  and  the  joyous  expression 
which  used  always  to  gladden  her  countenance,  had 
changed  into  a  mournful,  and  perhaps  rather  sullen 
look.  Her  hair  which  used  to  hang  in  long  curls 
down  her  back,  had  all  been  cut  off  in  her  illness, 
and  now  clustered  in  close  curls  all  over  her  head, 
completely  laying  bare  her  fine  high  forehead  and 
temples,  to  which  the  extreme  blueness  of  the  veins 
gave  a  peculiarly  delicate  and  singular  appearance. 
She  was  lying  on  a  couch  near  the  open  window 
her  little  thin  hand  resting  on  her  father's  knee,  who 
sat  by  her ;  and  had  apparently  been  reading  to  her. 
He  had  now,  however,  ceased  to  do  so,  and  was  at 
that  moment  sorrowfully  gazing  on  the  child.  At 
length  he  rose,  and  leaning  over  her  couch,  kissed 
her  tenderly,  and  drawing  her  into  his  arms,  he 
rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  as  he  seated  him- 
self on  the  edge  of  her  couch,  and  then  kissed  her 
again  and  again. 

As  he  did  so,   the  tears  suddenly   flowed   down 
her  cheeks,  and  heavy  sobs  rose  audibly  on  his  ear. 
"  What  is   it.   my   cliild  ?"  lie   asked;    "why   does 
8-^^  >. 


90  BLIND    LILIAS. 

iny  Lily  cry   so  sadly  ?      Tell  ine,  dearest,  what 
it  is." 

"  I  am  sorry,  papa,"  sobbed  the  child,  nestling 
into  his  bosom,  and  trying  to  still  the  agitation  that 
his  affectionate  manner  had  brought  to  a  crisis ;  for 
before  he  spoke,  one  silent  tear  and  her  look  of  sor- 
row had  alone  indicated  that  a  struggle  was  going 
on  in  her  heart.  "  It  is  of  no  use  to  say  anything 
about  it,  papa.  I  did  not  mean  to  vex  you  ;  it  was 
only  that  something  made  a  choking  feeling  come 
in  my  throat,  and  then  I  could  not  help  crying." 

"  What  was  it,  darling  ?  what  inade  that  feeling 
come  1   tell  me,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Hope. 

"  I  think  it  was  part  of  what  you  were  reading, 
papa,"  replied  Lilias.  "  But  never  mind  ;  don't  cry 
too,  papa  ;  never  mind." 

"  What  was  it,  my  precious  child  ?  was  it  that 
the  beautiful  scenes  of  which  I  was  reading,  were 
bringing  your  loss  to  your  remembrance  1 " 

Lilias  was  silent ;  she  liked  to  brood  over  her 
grief,  but  not  to  speak  of  it. 

"  Tell  me,  my  child,  was  it  so  ?" 

'■  Yes,  papa,"  replied  Lilias,  "  that  was  it — when 
you  read  about  the  sheep.  Read  it  again,  dear 
papa.  I  shall  not  cry  now,  and  then  we  will  talk 
about  it ;"  and  as  she  'wished,  Mr.  Hope  resumed 


CHERISHED    GRIEF.  91 

the  volume  of  Milton  from  which  he  had  been  read- 
ing, and,  in  beautiful  and  varied  tones,  read  to  his 
child  that  exquisite  description  of  God's  "  far  more 
pleasant  garden."' 

"Out  of  the  fertile  eround  He  caused  to  grow 
All  trees  of  noblest  kind  for  sight,  smell,  taste; 
And  all  amid  them  stood  the  tree  of  life. 
High  eminent,  blooming  ambrosial  fruit 
Of  vegetable  gold  ;  and  next  to  life. 
Our  death,  the  tree  of  knowledge,  grew  fast  by, 
Knowledge  of  good  bought  dear  by  knowing  ilL 
Southward  through  Eden  went  a  river  large. 
Nor  changed  his  course,  but  through  the  shaggy  hill 
Pass'd  underneath  ingulf 'd,  for  God  had  thrown 
That  mountain  as  His  garden-mould,  high  raised 
Upon  the  rapid  current,  which,  through  veins 
Of  porous  earth  with  kindly  thirst  updrawn, 
Rose  a  fresh  fountain,  and  with  many  a  rill 
Water'd  the  garden  ;  thence  united  fell 
Down  the  steep  glade,  and  met  the  nether  flood, 
Which  from  his  darksome  passage  now  appears  ; 
And  now,  divided  into  four  main  streams, 
Runs  divers,  wandering  many  a  famous  realm 
And  country,  whereof  here  needs  no  account ; 
But  rather  to  tell  how,  if  Art  could  tell. 
How  from  that  sapphii'o  fount  the  crisped  brooks, 
Rolling  on  orient  pearl  and  sands  of  gold. 
With  mazy  error  under  pendant  shades 
Ran  nectar,  visiting  each  plant,  and  fed 
Flowers  worthy  of  Paradise,  which  not  nice  Art 
In  beds  and  curious  knots,  but  Nature  boon 
Pour'd  forth  profuse  on  hill,  and  dale,  and  plain, 
Both  where  the  morning  sun  first  warmly  smote 


92 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


The  open  field,  and  where  the  unpierced  shade 

Imbrown'd  the  noontide  bowers.     Thus  was  this  place 

A  happy  rural  seat  of  various  view ; 

Grroves  whose  ricli  trees  wept  odorous  gums  and  balm, 

Others  whose  fruit,  burnish'd  with  golden  rind, 

Tlung  amiable, — Hesperian  fables  true, 

If  true,  here  onlj'-, — and  of  delicious  taste : 

Betwixt  them  lawns,  or  level  downs,  and  flocks 

Grazing  the  tender  herb,  were  interposed; 

Or  palmy  hillock,  or  the  flowery  lap 

Of  some  irriguous  valley  spread  her  store, 

Flowers  of  all  hue,  and  without  thorn  the  rose." 

"  There  !  papa,"  said  Lilias,  "  that  was  what  made 
me  feel  sad  !  All  those  grand  descriptions  of  glo^ 
rioiis  foreign  scenes,  such  as  T  never  saw,  delight 
me,  and  I  can  fixncy  them  all,  and  think  I  see  them, 
because,  you  know,  I  never  really  have  seen  them, 
and  so  I  can  fancy  them  as  well  now  that  I  am 
blind  as  I  could  before,  when  I  could  see  ;  but  when 
I  think  of  the  copses  with  their  pretty  trees,  and 
flowers,  and  the  butterflies  and  bees  flitting  about 
amongst  them,  and  of  our  own  brooks  and  mead- 
ows, that  I  shall  never  see  again,  I  feel  so  sorrow- 
ful !  And  I  thought  of  the  old  shaggy  sheep,  and 
the  flocks  of  pretty  white  lambs,  playing  '  shock '  on 
the  sunny  slopes,  and  then  coming  and  kneeling 
down  to  suck,  and  shaking  their  long  tails  with  de- 
light, as  I  saw  them  before  I  lost  my  sight,  and 
then Oh,  papa,  how  shall  I  ever  bear  it !   Never 


CHERISHED    GRIEF.  »» 

to  see  you  and  dear  Maudie  and  Mabel  again,  nor 
my  brothers  !  never  to  see  the  flowers,  and  the  birds, 
and  the  lambs  !  Oh,  papa  !  I  would  rather  have 
died  at  once."  And,  giving  way  to  her  emotions, 
the  poor  child  sobbed  with  almost  hysterical 
distress. 

Mr.  Hope  still  sat  on  Lily's  couch,  and  held  her 
in  his  arms  ;  and  now,  gently  soothing  her,  he  suifer- 
ed  her  to  weep  unrestrainedly  for  a  few  moments 
until  her  excited  feelings  were  iu  a  measure  relieved. 
Then  he  spoke  : — 

"  My  child,  you  know  whose  hand  it  is  that  has 
thus  stricken  you.  My  darling  says  it  would  have 
been  better  to  die  than  thus  to  lose  the  sight  of  all 
the  dear  familiar  objects.  If  the  choice  were  given 
to  papa,  and  he  could  dare  to  choose,  he  would 
rather  have  himself  died  ;  or,  what  my  child  thinks 
is  even  worse,  he  would  rather  far  have  been  made 
blind  himself,  than  that  his  precious  little  one  should 
lose  the  power  of  sight.  But,  thank  God,  we  have 
not  had  to  choose — we  should  have  chosen  wrong, 
darling  !  What  we  have  to  do  is  to  try  to  accept 
God's  will — to  have  the  same  ivill  ivith  Him,  so  as 
not  even  to  wish  things  to  be  otherwise  than  He 
appoints  them  for  us.  Try  to  do  so,  my  child.  I 
give  you  that  for  your  aim  in  life — aim  always  to 


94  BLIND    LILIAS. 

consent  to  His  will,  dearest ;  not  only  to  bear  it 
with  what  is  called  resignation,  but  to  accept  it." 

"  But  I  am  so  young,  papa,"  answered  the  child, 
"  and  it  is  so  very  terrible.  I  am  sure  I  could  never 
get  to  be  willing  to  bear  this  constant,  dreadful 
darkness.     It  is  very  hard,  papa !" 

"  You  will  never  be  able  to  bear  it  in  your  own 
strength,  Lilias,"  replied  her  father.  "  If  you  seek 
grace  and  strength  from  God  you  will  be  able  not 
only  to  bear,  but  accept  this  great  trial ;  but  never 
without  it,  my  love.  I  was  once  nursing  a  little 
dying  boy  of  just  your  age.  His  disease,  which 
was  in  the  brain,  caused  such  agony  of  suffering  as 
I  never  before  saw  a  child  endure.  One  day  I  said 
to  him  when  I  saw  the  anguish  he  suffered,  '  Oh,  my 
child,  it  is  well  that  I  have  not  the  power  to  take 
away  this  pain,  for  I  should  surely  do  it !  Yet  if 
it  were  good  for  you  that  it  should  be  removed 
God  could  do  it,  and  as  He  does  not,  it  is  plain  that 
it  would  not  be  right  to  do  so. 

"  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  '  you  love  me,  and  you  would 
take  it  away ;  and  God  loves  me  better  than  you 
do,  and  He  could  take  it  away,  and  does  not ;  and 
so  if  He  does  not  I  would  rather  keep  the  pain,  He 
will  help  me  to  bear  it ;'  and  although  the  agony 
rather   increased    than  lessened,  and    continued   to 


CHERISHED    GRIEF. 


95 


within  a  few  days  of  the  close  of  his  sweet  and 
holy  life,  I  never  once  heard  him  say  a  word  that 
indicated  other  than  entire  submission  to  God's 
will.  Try  you  to  do  the  same,  my  own  darling, 
and  be  sure,  if  your  earthly  father  suffers  with  you, 
and  would  give  his  very  life  to  save  you  from  this 
trial,  that  your  heavenly  Father  looks  with  even 
dearer  love  and  pity  on  you." 

"  What  was  that  you  read  to  Maud  on  Sunday, 
from  a  lit-tle  paper  that  you  took  out  of  your  Bible, 
papa?  It  was  something  about  trying  to  have  fel- 
lowship with  God." 

"  It  was,  dear,  that  '  to  the  end  that  we  should  be 
partakers  of  His  holiness,  we  should  cultivate  fel- 
lowship with  God  our  Father  in  His  avowed  and 
gracious  designs.'  Now,  when  we  have  a  friend 
whom  we  greatly  honor  and  reverence,  and  love  as 
much  as  we  honor  him,  and  this  friend  invites  us  to 
help  him  in  doing  some  great  and  noble  work  that 
will  bring  honor  and  credit  to  him,  we  are  not  con- 
tent with  knowing  the  end  he  proposes,  but  we 
strive  to  understand  exactly  the  way  in  which  he 
would  have  it  done,  and  to  follow  that  way  exactly. 
We  are  gratified  when  he  lets  us  work  with  him, 
and  for  him,  and  makes  us  fellow-workers  with 
himself,  and  our  aim  is  not  merely  that  the  thing 


96  BLIND    LILIAS. 

he  wishes  may  be  done,  but  that  it  may  be  done  in 
the  way  he  likes.  Now,  this  is  as  we  should  work 
for  God.  Have  fellowship  with  Him.  Delight  to 
do  His  will,  and  to  do  it  in  His  own  way,  not 
shrinking  back  when  that  way  is  hard  and  difficult, 
or  when  it  involves  pain  and  deprivation,  but  think- 
ing always,  '  My  Father  has  my  good  and  His  own 
glory  in  view,  and  I  must  not  mind  if  I  have  to 
bear  things  which  I  do  not  like  in  the  way  of 
doing  it.' " 

'•  But,  fither,  I  cannot  like  to  be  blind.  It  is  a 
great  trial." 

"It  is,  my  darling,  I  cannot  doubt  it.  But  I 
trust  that  God  will  enable  you  to  bear  it  patiently, 
and  in  the  end  to  accept  it  at  His  hand." 

"  But  here  come  your  sisters  from  their  walk  ;  I 
see  them  coming  up  the  avenue,"  continued  he,  after 
a  pause,  during  which  both  he  and  Lilias  had  been 
in  deep  thought.  "  You  must  think  of  all  we  have 
said,  my  love,  and  pray — pray  much,  my  child, 
and  try  to  '  wait  on  the  Lord  ;'  we  will  talk  more 
at  another  time.  Now  lie  still  and  rest,  dearest, 
until  Maud  and  Mabel  come.  They  will  soon  be 
here ;  and  kissing  Lilias  fondly,  he  placed  her  pil- 
lows comfortably,  and  laying  her  on  them,  himself 
took  a  book  and  beffon  to  read. 


X. 

NEW  FACES. 

"  ^'ii.t-'^^^'  cliildren,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  as  his  two 
^yV  nice-looking  girls,  clad  in  walking-dressos 
and  followed  by  a  fine  Newfoundland  dog, 
entered  the  rootu,  "what  have  you  to  tell  usl 
Here  are  we  longing  for  some  news  from  the  gar- 
den of  the  sea !  Have  you  found  any  new  beds  of 
anemones,  or  got  us  some  fresh  sea-cucumbers  to 
eat  with  our  pickled  salmon  to-morrow?  Ha,  Mr. 
Nep !  what  business  have  you  here,  I  should  like  to 
know?  Dogs  in  cai'peted  rooms!  I  am  ashamed 
of  you,  sir.  No,  no !  Lily,"  added  he  in  reply  to 
a  word  of  entreaty  from  the  little  girl,  who  was 
caressing  her  beautiful  favorite  ;  "  '  everything  in  its 
place,  and  a  place  for  everything ;'  and  Master 
Nep's  place  is  in  the  stable-yard,  and  not  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  thei-e  he  must  go  !  Why,  girls, 
how  could  you  think  of  bringing  him  into  the  room  ? 
he  is  quite  wet." 

"  O  papa,"  said  Maud,  "  we  thought  we  had  lefb 
him   in   the    stable-yard,    but   the   doors   being  all 
9 


98  BLIND    LIUA8. 

open,  I  suppose  he  followed  us  in.  He  has  had 
such  a  capital  bath." 

"  Well,  he  must  go  now,"  replied  her  father. 
"  Come,  old  fellow,"  he  added,  rising  and  proceed- 
ing to  put  the  unwilling  dog  out  of  the  room  ;  but 
Neptune  remonstrated  so  earnestly  against  going 
alone,  that  his  master,  patting  his  great  head,  sub- 
mitted to  his  all  but  spoken  wish,  and  left  the  room 
with  him,  saying  that  he  would  give  the  dog  and 
himself  a  few. minutes'  walk  before  tea. 

Maud  took  the  place  her  father  had  left,  and 
began  caressing  her  little  sister,  whilst  Mabel  went 
to  take  off  her  bonnet  and  prepai-e  for  tea. 

When  Mabel  returned  to  the  room,  her  father 
had  just  come  back  from  his  walk  with  Neptune, 
and  taken  possession  of  his  accustomed  arm-chair. 
Eagerly  seating  herself  on  a  stool  at  his  feet,  and 
fixing  her  eyes  on  his  face  with  a  sparkling  look  of 
delight,  she  exclaimed,  "  O  papa,  my  own  dear 
pater,  we  have  met  with  such  an  adventure.  We 
have  seen  such  a  sweet  creature,  and  I  am  quite  in 
love  with  her.  O  Maud,  how  shall  we  find  out  who 
she  is,  and  get  acquainted  with  them  ?" 

"  Indeed,  May,  that  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you," 
replied  Maud,  laughing.  "  It  will  be  easy  enough 
to  find  out  who  they  are ;  but " 


NEW    FACES.  99 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  interrupted  Mabel ;  "  of 
coui'se  we  cannot  get  acquainted  with  them  without 
some  introduction,  or  having  some  proper  reason 
for  calling.  But  if  they  turn  out  to  be  very  nice 
people,  you  will  let  us  go  and  see  them,  will  you 
not,  papa?  I  know  they  must  be  very  charming, 
and  would  just  suit  us." 

"If  you  will  solve  the  problem  which  your  words 
imply,  May,  we  will  think  about  it,"  replied  Mr. 
Hope. 

"  What  problem,  papa?"  asked  Mabel. 

"  Why,  how  we  are  to  find  out  whether  they  are 
'very  nice  people'  or  not,  before  we  know  them. 
At  present  they  represent  '  an  unknown  quantity.' 
Are  we  to  put  down  x  and  y,  and  '  swat  it  out  by 
algebra,"  (as  the  Addiscombe  boys  used  to  say.) 
before  we  can  discover  their  value  ?  But  come, 
pussy,  tell  mc  all  about  this  new  wonder.      Who  is 

she  r 

"Why,  papa,"  replied  Mabel,  laughing  and  nest- 
ling isito  her  favorite  place  in  the  corner  of  his  chair, 
"that  is  exactly  what  I  cannot  do.  But  I  am  sure 
she  must  be  really  worth  knowing — she  was  riding 
on  a  donkey." 

"Well,  then,  really,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  with 
mock   gravity,    "that    does    augur   something    re- 


100  BLIND    LILIAS. 

markable.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  enthusiasm." 
Lily  lauglied  aloud,  and  all  the  others  joined  in 
chorus. 

"  No,  no,  papa,"  rejoined  Mabel.  "  I  did  not 
mean  that  there  was  anything  remarkable  in  that ; 
but  now,  please,  let  me  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  not 
once  interrupt  me  or  laugh  at  me.  There,  now,  you 
cannot  say  another  word,"  said  she  playfully  laying 
her  hand  on  his  mouth.  "  Well,  Maud  and  I  were 
sitting  chatting  in  the  little  cove,  and  watching  the 
waves  as  they  broke  over  the  rocks.  Oh,  it  was  so 
lovely  to-night,  pater,  I  wish  you  had  been  there ! 
Well,  as  I  said,  we  were  sitting  on  the  shingle  with 
Nep  (who  had  just  been  making  fine  fun  in  the 
water)  lying  at  our  feet,  when  we  heard  some  very 
merry  voices,  and,  turning  to  look,  we  saw  coming 
down  the  path  from  the  village,  a  cavalcade  which 
interested  us  amazingly.  First  and  foremost 
bounded  a  lovely  little  Italian  greyhound — a  sort 
of  dove-colored  creature — the  very  beau  ideal  of 
grace  and  lightness ;  and  he  was  followed  by  a  child 
as  light  and  graceful  as  himself,  with  long  golden 
curls,  and  the  loveliest  little  feet  and  legs  that  were 
ever  seen.  Another  little  girl,  apparently  a  year 
or  two  older,  followed  her,  and  they  and  their  pretty 
dog  so  absorbed  our  attention,  that  we  scarcely  no- 


NEW    FACES.  101 

ticed  the  rest  of  the  party  until  they  came  close  to 
us ;  and  then,  oh  then,  out  went  my  heart  with  a 
great  bound,  and  clung  to  the  heart  of  the  most 
lovely,  the  most  perfect  creature  I  ever  saw  !  Was 
she  not  charming  Maud  ?  Oh,  I  do  wish  we  could 
know  her!"  and,  springing  from  her  seat,  Mabel 
began  to  rave  about  the  charms  of  her  new  friend 
elect,  whilst  Mr.  Hope  and  Maud  watched  her  with 
half  amused  and  half  anxious  thoughts ;  for  they 
could  not  but  fear  that  so  much  of  suddenness  and 
intensity  of  impression,  such  eager  vehemence, 
must,  if  not  carefully  watched  over  and  checked, 
be  a  source  of  future  suftering  and  evil  to  the 
beloved  child,  who,  wholly  unconscious  of  their 
thoughts,  continued  to  pour  forth  her  eloquent 
praises. 

''My  child,"  said  her  father,  tenderly,  "I  do  not 
like  to  see  you  so  eager  and  vehement.  It  makes 
me  tremble  for  your  future  happiness  when  I  see 
you  thus  giving  way  to  an  uncontrolled  imagination, 
and  BO  ready  to  bestow  your  atTections  on  any  ob- 
ject which  may  present  an  alluring  aspect,  before 
you  have  given  your  judgment  time  or  opportunity 
to  pass  verdict  on  its  fitness.  This  redundancy  of 
fancy  needs  schooling,  my  child.  You  remember 
what  wc  were  reading  the  other  day  in  Butler. 
^    9* 


102  BLIND    LILIAS. 

He  calls  imagination  'that  froward  delusive  fac- 
ulty ever  obtruding  beyond  its  sphere ;  of  some 
assistance,  indeed,  to  apprehension,  but  the  au- 
thor of  all  error,'  You  remember  the  passage, 
dear?" 

"  Oh  yes  !  father,"  replied  the  blushing  and  half 
tearful  girl ;  "  it  is  very  true.  I  have  but  too  often 
proved  the  folly  of  my  vehemence,  and  I  will  try 
to  repress  and  check  it — I  will  indeed,  dearest 
father,"  she  added,  kissing  his  forehead ;  then,  after 
a  pause,  continued,  "  But  now,  pater,  you  must  just 
let  me  tell  you  about  this  young  lady,  because  you 
know  I  am  never  quite  happy  until  I  have  told  you 
everything  I  am  thinking  about,  and  I  cannot  help 
thinking  of  her." 

"  Oh,  tell  me  by  all  means,  dear,"  replied  Mr. 
Hope.  "  I  shall  like  to  hear  whatever  interests  my 
child." 

"Well  then,  papa,"  resumed  Mabel,  "she  was 
riding  on  Dobbs'  donkey,  and  by  her  side  walked  a 
nice-looking  girl  of  about  fifteen,  I  should  think. 
She  and  the  two  little  ones  were  sisters,  I  suppose, 
for  they  were  much  alike,  and  all  had  fair  complex- 
ions ;  but  the  young  lady  on  the  donkey  had  quite 
a  different  cast  of  features,  and  was  quite  unlike  the 
rest.     She  looked  like  a  foreigner ;  her  hair  was 


NEW    FACES.  108 

very  dark — almost,  if  not  quite  black.  Her  figure 
was  pei'fect — so  light  and  graceful — and  her  features 
were  quite  classical.  When  we  first  saw  her,  she 
was  entirely  colorless,  her  face  as  white  as  marble  ; 
but  as  she  turned  her  head  and  s]3ied  us  (for  you 
know  we  were  half  hidden  by  the  rocks,  and  she 
did  not  see  us  at  first),  such  a  lovely  geranium  tint 
rose  on  her  cheek,  and  then  died  away  again !  it 
was  as  when  a  wave  curls  over  and  catches  on  its 
surface  a  rosy  tint  from  the  rising  sun,  looking  for 
a  moment  all  brilliancy,  and  then  losing  its  rich 
tinting  as  suddenly  as  it  caught  it.  I  never  saw 
any  tiling  so  exquisitely  lovely  as  her  whole  appear- 
ance." 

"  And  of  what  age  might  this  rara  avis  seem  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Hope, 

"  She  was  older  than  the  others,"  replied  Mabel. 
"I  should  think  she  must  have  been  about  twenty. 
Oh,  she  was  such  a  sweet  creature,  papa !  I  quite 
lojf^  her  already.  All  the  party  were  dressed  as 
simply^  possible,  and  all  in  very  sliglit  mourning  ; 
but  there  was  something  a  little  peculiar  about  the 
form  of  their  dresses  which  led  us  to  think  they 
must  be  foreigners,  and  the  fine  full  guttural  of  the 
respectable  elderly  woman  who  was  their  only  at- 
tendant (except  Johnny  Dobbs,  the  donkey  boy) 


104  BLIND    LILIAS. 

confirmed  our  suspicions.  Well,  pater,  from  the 
pommel  of  Meta's  saddle — they  called  her  Meta 
(that  is  the  German  diminutive  for  Margaret,  you 
know) — from  the  pommel  of  her  saddle  hung  a 
zinc  case,  into  which  we  afterwards  saw  them  put- 
ting specimens  of  sea-weed,  and  the  servant  carried 
a  tin  botanical  case  ;  so  I  conclude  they  are  botan- 
ists. And  that  makes  me  more  anxious  than  ever 
to  know  them,  for  I  do  want  a  little  help  in  my  bo- 
tany ;  not  exactly  help,  papa,  because  you  can  tell 
me  everything  I  want  to  know,  but  I  should  like 
some  one  to  collect  with  me,  and  care  about  making 
a  hortus  siccus.  It  is  not  in  Queen  Maud's  way  ; 
for  though  she  delights  in  the  flowers  when  they  are 
sweet  and  fresh,  she  never  cares  about  what  she 
calls  '  their  dead  bodies,  when  all  the  life  has  been 
squeezed  out  in  the  press.'  However,  I  know  we 
must  have  some  better  reason  for  making  acquaint- 
ance with  people  than  that  one  rides  on  a  donkey, 
and  the  others  have  a  dog  and  botanical  cases;  and 
so  I  must  try  to  be  wise  and  patient,  and  not  let 
that  '  obtrusive  faculty'  victimize  me  any  further  ou 
the  subject,"  added  Mabel,  laughing,  as  she  rose 
from  her  lather's  side,  at  w' hich  she  had  again  seatsd 
herself;  and  now  I  must  go  and  give  Lily's  bird 
its  groundsel."     Leaving  the  room  a  few  minutes 


NEW    FACES.  105 

with  Mfvud,  who  went  to  lay  aside  her  bonnet,  they 
both  soon  returned ;  and  Maud,  seating  herself  at 
the  table  began  to  make  the  tea,  whilst  the  others 
took  their  places,  and  the  meal  proceeded  amidst 
pleasant  chat  and  mirthful  laughter. 


•v. 


XI. 

tj&kikg  up  the  cross. 

J^lpVrlLIAS  was  quiet  and  thoughtful  during  tea ; 

^^   and  after  it  was  over,  Maud  led  her  to  her 

couch,  and   sat  down  near  her,  with  some 

wild  flowers  that  she  was  going  to  arrange,  in  her 

hand. 

"  Now,  Maud,"  said  Lily,  whose  head  rested  on 
her  sister's  shouldei',  whilst  her  little  thin  hand  was' 
employed  in  feeling  the  flowers,  "  I  think  I  can  tell 
you  every  flower  you  hold  in  your  hand :  I  am 
going  to  try  how  well  I  can  do  with  feeling  instead 
of  seeing.  You  have  some  wild  roses,  one  honey- 
suckle, some  of  the  Portland  spurge  that  grows  at 
the  foot  of  the  0113",  and  three  pyramidal  orchises ! 
Is  that  right  f 

"  Nearly,  darling,"  replied  Maud,  caressing  her, 
but  with  tears  rising  in  her  eyes,  as  she  saw  that 
dear  little  hand  groping  amidst  the  sweet  flowers  ; 
"  nearly,  but  not  quite — only  two  'pyramidal  or- 
chises, and" 

'■  Oh,  don't  tell !    stay   a  minute :    let   me    feel 


\ 


TAKING    UP    THE    CROSS.  107 

again.  I  know  ;  two  pyrainidal,  and  oiie  of  the 
light  ones  with  spotted  leaves.  Is  not  that  right  1 
I  know  by  those  long  leaflets  that  gi'ow  up  amongst 
the  blossoms." 

"  Bracts,  they  are  called;  dear,"  said  Mabel.  "  It 
is  Orchis  2>almata.  You  clever  little  thing,  to  find 
out  so  quickly  !     But  there  are  more,  Lily." 

'■  Yes,"  said  Lily,  still  lightly  passing  her  little 
fingers  over  the  leaves,  and  stems,  and  petals,  of 
the  flowers;  "there  is  a  bee  orchis — two,  three 
real  bee  orchises.  How  long  it  is  since  I  saw  a 
bee  orchis  :  we  used  to  find  them  on  the  windmill 
hill !  And  do  you  remember  my  finding  what  we 
called  the  butterfly  flower — I  mean  the  blade  of 
grass  with  seven  little  blue  butterflies  all  asleep  on 
it,  hanging  one  below  another  like  a  spike  of  blos- 
soms— and  how  I  brought  them  all  home'?  Oh, 
how  beautiful  that  place  was !  O  Maud,  Maud  !" 
And  poor  Lily  bent  her  head,  overpowered  with  a 
gush  of  tears,  as  the  remembrance  of  her  hst  sense, 
and  of  the  lovely  scene  on  which  she  should  never 
again  look,  arose  to  her  mind. 

Maud  wept  also,  and  pressed  her  in  lior  arms. 
Mr.  Hope  and  Mabel  had  left  the  room  whilst  Lily 
was  speaking,  and  the  two  sisters  continued  silent 
for  a  few  iniiuites.     Then  Lilias  lifted  her  lioiid,  and 


108  BLIND    LIMA8. 

turning  her  sightless  eyes  towards  her  companion's 
face,  as  though  as  of  old  she  could  watch  every 
glance  of  that  beloved  countenance,  said  reso- 
lutely— 

"  You  must  not  cry,  Maud,  nor  must  I — not  ever 
again — I  mean,  not  because  I  am  blind,  I  am 
going  to  try  to  accept  the  trial,  and  to  turn  it  into 
a  blessing,  dearest  Maud.  Papa  has  been  telling 
me  about  trying  to  let  God  do  what  He  thinks 
right  cheerfully,  and  having  fellowship  with  Him, 
the  same  as  I  used  to  like  so  much  to  have  fellow- 
ship with  papa,  and  help  him  in  anything  he  is 
doing ;  and  so  I  am  going  to  try  if  I  cannot  learn 
to  have  fellowship  with  God,  and  be  satisfied  with 
what  He  has  done,  and  try  to  like  it  because  He 
does  it ;  and  therefore,  Maud,  do  not  you  pity  me 
any  more.  I  mean,  not  say  anything  about  it,  or 
cry  over  me,  but  pray  to  God  to  make  me  able  to 
be  very  happy,  and  not  fret  for  what  He  has  taken 
away." 

"  May  He  indeed  help  you,  my  precious  child  !" 
said  Maud.  "  And  He  will  help  you,  Lily  ;  and  I 
will  try  to  help  and  strengthen  you  rather  than  to 
weaken  you,  as  I  have  hitherto  done  by  my  sor- 
row." 

"  And  Mabel   too,"  said   Lily  ;  "  you  must  tell 


TAKING    UP    THE    CROSS.  109 

Mabel,  and  we  must  all  agree  to  try  and  remem- 
ber the  many  pleasant  things  that  are  left ;  and  you 
must  teach  me  to  do  things  without  eyes  that  other 
people  can  only  do  with  them,  and  I  shall  make  a 
pleasure  out  of  surprising  people  with  what  I  can 
do — that  will  not  be  wrong,  Maud,  will  it  ?  You 
know  I  hope  not  to  be  vain  and  proud,  and  I  know 
it  will  be  by  God's  help  if  I  am  able  to  do  any- 
thing ;  but  I  think  it  would  amuse  and  please  me, 
and  take  off  my  thoughts  from  being  sorry,  if  I 
were  to  learn  to  do  all  sorts  of  things — to  work, 
and  to  knit,  and  I  might  learn  a  little  of  botany, 
and  I  think,  if  you  do  not  mind  teaching  me,  I 
might  go  on  with  music,  and  many  things — might  I 
not,  Maud  ?" 

*'  You  may  indeed,  my  darling,"  replied  Maud. 
"  And  dear  Lilias,  if  this  trial  does  truly  lead  you 
nearer  to  God,  and  bring  you  to  rest  on  Him,  and 
look  to  Ilim  from  hour  to  hour,  it  will  indeed 
prove  a  blessing  in  disguise." 

"  Yes,  that  it  will  !  I  have  begun  already,  Maud  ! 
that  was  why  I  felt  the  flowers — you  know  I  never 
did  that  before.  I  never  liked  to  take  them  in  my 
hand,  because  they  put  me  in  mind  of  my  blind- 
ness, and  so  with  many  other  things.  You  know. 
Uncle  Willi;im  used  to  say,  '  Little  girls  should  see 

lb 


110  BLIND    LILIAb. 

with  their  eyes,  and  not  with  their  fingers ;'  and  now 
I  must  say,  '  Blind  little  girls  must  see  with  their 
fingers,  and  not  with  their  eyes,'  "  added  she,  laugh- 
ing. 

"True,  ray  precious  child,"  answered  Maud. 
'•  Do  you  know,  I  have  heard  of  some  blind  people 
whose  sense  of  touch  had  become  so  acute  that  they 
were  even  able  to  distinguish  colors'?  And  you 
will  soon  fmd,  dear  Lily,  that  you  will  succeed  in 
doing  many  things  if  you  make  a  steady  effort — 
things  which  you  would  have  thought  it  impossible 
to  do  without  sight.  T  once  knew  an  old  woman, 
that  had  lost  her  sight  after  she  was  grown  up,  who 
cut  out  and  made  all  her  own  gowns  and  caps,  and 
evei-y  article  she  wore,  and  not  only  so,  but  washed 
and  ironed  them  all  herself;  and  she  was  so  neat 
and  nice  in  her  appearance,  that  you  would  n£ver 
have  known  she  could  not  see." 

"  How  curious  it  must  have  been  to  see  her  feel- 
ing about  to  cut  the  things,  Maud !  I  should  like  to 
do  such  things.  But  did  she  never  burn  herself 
with  the  irons,  or  cut  her  hands  with  the  scissors  ?" 
said  Lily. 

"  I  never  heard  of  her  doing  so,  dear,"  replied 
Maud ;  "  though  no  doubt  she  did  at  first,  and  you 
must  expect  little  accidents  and  failures  at  the  begin- 


TAKING  VP    THE  CROSS.  Ill 

ning  of  your  efforts,  you  know ;  you  will  soon  gain 
experience,  however,  if  you  go  on  jjatiently.  But 
here  is  nurse  to  take  you  to  bed,  darling.  God 
bless  and  strengthen  you,  ray  child  ;"  and  affection- 
ately kissing  each  other,  the  sisters  separated  for 
the  night. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  a  day  that  was  always 
one  of  calm  and  quiet  enjoyment  at  Coombhurst 
Grange.  The  family  met  rather  earlier  than  usual 
for  prayers,  in  order  to  give  time  for  the  elder  girls 
to  reach  the  school-house,  before  the  assembling  of 
the  Sunday  school,  in  which  they  both  were  accus- 
tomed to  take  an  active  part. 

Since  Lilias'  illness,  Mr.  Hope  had  himself  taken 
charge  of  her  at  that  hour,  and  during  those  of  the 
morning  service,  leaving  her  under  the  care  of  one 
or  other  of  her  sisters  in  turn,  whilst  he  enjoyed 
the  benefit  of  the  second  service.  On  this  day, 
however,  soon  after  Maud  and  Mabel  had  with- 
drawn, and  Mr.  Hope  had  begun  to  read  to  Lilias, 
she  said,  "  Papa,  if  you  will  read  the  psalms  and 
lessons  first  to-day  before  church-time,  instead  of 
doing  so  when  the  people  are  in  church  as  you 
used,  you  could  go  to  the  service  with  Maud  and 
May,  could  not  you  ?     I  do  not  think  you  can  like 


112  BLIND    LILIAS. 

to  stay  at  home  every  Sunday  morning,  and  I  shall 
not  mind,  papa." 

"  But  you  will  be  alone,  my  darling,  and  I  fear 
you  would  feel  sad  and  solitary,  if  I  were  to  leave 
you  with  only  nurse." 

"  I  will  try  not  to  mind  it,  papa ;  I  do  not  mean 
to  be  selfish  any  longer.  Nursie  shall  say  all  her 
hymns  to  me,  and  I  will  try  to  learn  one  from  her 
to  say  to  you,  when  you  come  home ;  and  she  talks 
so  kindly  that  though  she  cannot  read  to  me,  I  shall 
be  very  comfortable,  and  then  you  know  if  it  is  a 
little  dull  it  will  not  signify,  and  I  shall  try  to  think 
about  what  we  were  talking  of  last  night.  I  am 
so  much  obliged  to  you,  dearest  papa,  for  saying 
all  that." 

"  Well,  Lilias,"  replied  Mr.  Hope,  "  it  shall  be 
so  ;  I  will  join  your  sisters  at  church,  and  I  do  not 
think  you  will  be  sorry  that  you  havB  exercised 
self-denial,  my  child.  But,  remember,  I  shall 
depend  on  it  that  you  do  not  allow  yourself  to 
yield  to  repining  thoughts.  If  you  feel  that  you 
do  not  bear  the  loneliness  so  well  as  you  expect, 
tell  me  at  once,  darling,  and  I  will  not  again  leave 
you." 

But  the  little  girl  was  steadfast  in  her  desire,  and 
for  the  first  time  since  her  accident,  her  father,  who 


TAKINO    UP    THE    CROSS.  113 

felt  that,  although  it  was  painful  to  him  to  do  so,  it 
was  better  for  his  little  one  that  she  should  be 
allowed  to  follow  the  dictates  of  her  mind  and  con- 
science in  the  matter,  left  her  in  the  house  with  only 
the  servants,  and  joined  his  other  children  in  the 
house  of  God. 

Lily  bore  her  solitude  manfully — it  was  no  slight 
trial  to  her,  to  be  left  thus  for  the  first  time  in  her 
blindness  ;  and  as  she  had  hitherto  suffered  herself 
to  sink  under  the  blow,  and  made  no  effort  to  accus- 
tom herself  to  the  position  in  which  she  stood,  she 
now  felt  it  more  painfully  than  she  would,  had  she 
from  the  first  endeavored  to  move  about  alone,  or 
to  find  some  sort  of  occupation  with  which  she  could 
employ  herself  independently  of  others.  There  had 
been  some  excuse  for  the  poor  child  not  exerting 
herself,  for  her  long  illness  had  weakened  her  pow- 
ers, both  of  mind  and  body,  and  the  suddenness  of 
the  stroke  had,  as  it  were,  paralyzed  her  faculties. 
It  had  been  with  great  sorrow  that  Mr.  Hope  and 
her  sisters  had  seen  her  so  entirely  reject  all  their 
endeavors  to  rouse  her  from  the  state  of  depression 
into  which  she  had  fallen.  Now,  however,  her 
father,  rejoiced  in  the  hope  that  a  new  spirit  was 
at  work  within  her,  and  a  new  principle  influenc- 
10* 


114  BUND    LILIAS. 

ing  her  actions ;  and  so,  with  many  prayers,  that 
it  might  please  God  to  subdue  her  heart,  and 
mould  it  to  His  will,  he  left  her  to  carry  out 
her  first  independent  effort  to  meet  and  conquer 
adversity. 


XII. 

^t  T  first  Lilias  made  several  grand  and  tolerably 
^^  successful  efforts  to  be  happy,  and  to  prove 
to  herself  that  she  was  quite  capable  of  fol- 
lowing out  her  plan.  She  repeated  some  hymns, 
or  rather  tried  to  do  so,  but  found  that,  from  a  long 
habit  of  neglect,  they  had  nearly  all  "slipped  from 
her  once  accurate  memory,  and  that  there  was  not 
one  that  she  could  say  through  without  mistake. 
Then  she  sang  a  little,  and  then  nurse  came,  and  she 
got  her  to  remind  her  of  the  parts  of  the  hymns  she 
had  forgotten,  and  thus  succeeded  in  making  herself 
again  perfect  in  two  or  three,  telling  nurse  that  next 
Sunday  she  should  refresh  her  memory  with  more. 
After  this  she  made  nurse  repeat  some  of  her  own 
store  of  hymns,  and  some  passages  of  Scripture ; 
and  then  another  of  the  servants  brought  her  a  plate 
of  fresh  strawberries  and  a  bit  of  cake,  which  little 
refection  created  a  most  satisfactory  diversion 
against  the  inroads  of  ennui ;  and  that  ended,  the 
little  girl  told  nurse  that  she  was  not  to  help  her, 


116  BLIND    LILIAS. 

for  that  she  was  going  to  try  how  well  she  could 
walk  about  by  herself.  So  she  got  up,  and  with 
outstretched  arms  began  to  feel  around  her. 

"  I  shall  go  out  on  the  terrace,  nurse,  and  when 
I  get  to  the  door,  you  can  help  me  a  little,  but  not 
before,"  said  she. 

;  But  vainly  did  poor  Lily  strive  to  find  the  door ; 
she  wandered  first  towards  the  Avindow,  and  then 
turning  from  that,  stumbled  over  a  footstool,  and 
ended  by  striking  herself  against  a  couch  and  falling 
flat  on  it.  Then  she  began  to  cry  rather  passionate- 
ly, and  when  nurse  would  have  helped  and  com- 
forted her,  she  struck  her,  pushed  her  petulantly 
aside,  and  renewed  her  crying  and  lamentations, 
saying,  that  "  it  was  of  no  use  to  try,  she  was  sure 
that  she  never  could  get  about  alone,  and  that  she 
was  a  most  unhappy  and  wretched  child." 

In  the  midst  of  this  scene  of  distress  the  door 
opened,  and  Mr,  Hope  with  Maud  entered  the  room. 

"  O  Lilias,  my  child  !"  said  he,  "  this  is  not  as  1 
had  hoped  to  find  you  ;  I  should  not  have  left  you 
had  I  expected  this.  What  is  it,  dear  ?  What  has 
happened,  and  why  are  you  lying  in  this  corner  of 
the  room  and  crying  so  violently  ?  What  is  it, 
nurse  ]"  asked  he,  seeing  that  Lilias  continued  to 
sob  and  give  no  answer. 


SELF-CONFIDENCE.  117 

Nurse  explained  what  had  occurred  ;  and  then 
Lilias  petulantly  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  never  be  able 
to  get  about,  papa.  It  is  of  no  use  to  try  ;"  and 
again  the  poor  child,  yielding  to  anger  and  passion, 
sobbed  and  cried  aloud. 

"  You  could  scarcely  expect  to  succeed  fully  at 
the  first  trial,  my  dear,"  replied  her  father.  "  You 
must  not  be  discouraged  by  one  failure." 

"  A  little  at  a  time,  Lily,"  said  Maud,  kindly. 
"  Patience  and  steady  perseverance  will  conquer  in 
time.  You  have  expected  too  much,  my  pet,  and 
thought  you  should  succeed  at  once." 

"  Come,  Lilias,  let  me  lead  you  back  to  your 
couch,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Hope  gravely,  seeing 
that  she  rudely  repulsed  her  sister  and  continued 
crying.  "  I  hope  our  next  trial  will  succeed  better 
than  this,  or  I  shall  return  to  my  former  habits, 
and  not  leave  you  alone."  He  spoke  with  a  tone 
which  Lilias  well  understood  to  be  one  of  displeas- 
ure, for  he  saw  that  temper  rather  than  depression 
was  the  cause  of  her  distress.  Gently  lifting  her 
in  his  arms,  he  placed  her  on  her  own  couch, 
and,  taking  his  Bible,  sat  silent  by  her  side,  whilst 
she  continued  to  sob  and  cry  until,  exhausted  by 
her  own  vehemence,  the  poor  child,  who  still  re- 
mained weak  and  delicate  from   the  effects  of  her 


118  BLIND    LILIAS. 

long  illness,  fell  asleep  with  the  tears  yet  glittering 
on  her  cheeks. 

Dinner  was  now  announced.  On  Sunday  Mr. 
Hope  made  it  a  rule  that  the  usual  family  arrange- 
ments should  yield  as  much  as  possible  to  the 
higher  claims  of  the  day,  and  every  facility  be  given 
for  each  member  of  his  household  to  attend  on  pub- 
lic worship,  as  also  for  his  girls  to  be  able  to  take 
their  place  in  the  school  with  punctuality.  An 
early  and  chiefly  cold  dinner,  therefore,  took  the 
place  of  their  usual  later  meal,  and  a  rather  more 
solid  tea-meal  than  on  other  days  was  always 
greatly  enjoyed  by  the  whole  party.  Leaving 
Lilias  under  the  care  of  nurse,  Mr.  Hope  joined 
his  daughters  in  the  dining-room. 

"  Where  is  Lily  ?"  asked  Mabel,  who  had  gone 
at  once  to  her  room  after  church,  and  had  conse- 
quently not  witnessed  the  little  scene  we  have  de- 
scribed.    "  Shall  I  fetch  her  f 

"  No,  my  dear,"  replied  her  father,  "  she  is 
asleep ;"  and  he  then  explained  to  Mabel  how  he 
had  found  her,  and  said,  "  Poor  darling,  she  has  a 
great  and  trying  work  before  her,  and  we  must  ex- 
pect that  she  will  fail  many  times  before  she  suc- 
ceeds in  bending  her  head  meekly  to  the  Hand 
which  afflicts  her." 


SELF-CONFIDENCE.  119 

"  But  you  seemed  displeased  with  her,  2:)apa," 
said  Maud.  "  Why  was  that  ?  Poor  child,  I  could 
not  wonder  when  I  saw  her  so  overcome  at  finding 
her  inability  to  move  about  alone." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  that  either,  my  dear ;  nor 
would  any  exhibition  of  sorrow  have  made  me  dis- 
pleased with  Lily.  She  has  but  just  begun  to  look 
her  sore  trial  in  the  face,  and  it  will  be  long  before 
she  is  able  to  take  up  the  cross,  and  bear  it  cheer- 
fully ;  nothing  but  Divine  grace  can  enable  her  to 
do  so,  and  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  angry  with 
my  child  for  failing,  where  I  have  myself  so  often 
and  so  greatly  failed,"  He  was  silent  for  a  minute, 
probably  struggling  against  the  grief  that  oppressed 
him  on  account  of  his  child,  and  lifling  up  his  heart 
to  God  for  strength  for  her  and  himself  "  But  I 
was  displeased  with  Lilias,  and  must  let  her  feel 
that  I  am,"  continued  he,  after  a  time.  "  Pride 
was  the  cause  of  her  tears,  and  petulance  the  result 
of  her  failure  to  get  into  the  garden  alone.  She  is 
a  precious  child  ;  but  self-dependence,  self-satisfac- 
tion, have  frorn  infancy  been  the  faults  of  her 
nature.  These  must  be  subdued  ;  and  I  can  see  in 
the  character  of  the  trial  which  it  has  pleased  God 
to  lay  on  her  a  fitness  that  makes  me  full  of  hope 
that  she  will  eventually  come  forth  '  as  gold  refined 


120  BLIND    LILIAS. 

in  the  furnace.'  Hitherto  this  pride  has  shown  it- 
self in  a  morbid  resolution  not  to  be  comforted — 
not  to  try  to  do  anything  for  herself  Now  I  truly 
hope  and  believe  that  her  heart  is  touched  by  a  bet- 
ter principle.  She  entered  most  sweetly  into  the 
spirit  of  the  conversation  which  I  had  with  her  last 
night,  and  her  little  effort  to  begin  to  bring  her 
new  resolution  into  practice,  by  feeling  your  flowers, 
touched  me  greatly.  This  morning,  too,  her  desire 
that  I  should  leave  her,  and  go  to  church,  delighted 
me ;  for  I  knew  what  an  efibrt  it  must  have  cost 
her  to  deny  herself  my  society,  and  remain  alone. 
I  would  fain  have  stayed,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  bet- 
ter to  go,  and  I  went.  Then,  satisfied  with  herself, 
iny  poor  child  yielded  to  the  old  fault,  and  fancy- 
ing she  was  strong,  was  allowed  to  feel  her  weak- 
ness. It  will  do  her  good,  dear,"  he  added,  in  repl}^ 
to  a  pitying  look  from  Mabel.  "  You  know  it 
would  not  have  been  right  for  me  to  let  her  think  I 
could  mistake  petulance  for  sorrow.  We  shall 
talk  it  over  when  she  wakes,  and  you  need  not  fear 
that  I  do  not  fully  appreciate  the  struggle  she  is 
making.  Would  God  that  I  could  bear  it  for  her  ! 
but  it  must  be  between  her  and  her  God ;  and  all 
that  I  can  do  is  to  guard  her  from  any  injury  that 
our  loving  pity,  if  not  properly  directed  and  re- 
strained, might  inflict  on  her." 


i 


XIII. 

PRIDS  SUBDUED. 

^i  S  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  and  the  girls  were 
^^  gone  to  the  school,  Mr.  Hope  returned  to  his 
little  daughter.  He  found  her  awake,  and 
learned,  on  inquiry,  that  nurse  had  brought  her 
some  dinner,  of  which  she  had  partaken ;  so,  dis- 
missing the  good  woman,  he  sat  down  by  Lily's 
couch,  and  began  to  converse  with  her. 

On  his  entrance  she  looked  ashamed,  but  turned 
away  from  him  with  a  cold,  offended  manner,  as  if 
she  were  the  aggrieved  person. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  "  you  have 
vexed  and  disappointed  me  to-day.  Tell  me,  dear, 
what  was  it  that  so  much  upset  you  ?  What  had 
occurred  to  make  you  cry  so  violently  this  mom- 
ing?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  have  done  wrong,  I  am 

sure,  papa,"  replied  Lily,  avoiding  a  direct  reply  to 

her  father's  question ;  "  nor  why  you  are  angry 

with  me,"  added  she,  ox)ldly  and  proudly.     "  I  did 

11 


122  BLIND    ULIAS. 

my  best  to  manage  for  myself,  and  it  was  not  my 
fault  if  I  fell  down  and  struck  myself." 

"  Am  I  displeased  with  you,  Lily,  because  you 
fell  down  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hope  gravely,  and  waiting 
for  an  answer. 

"  I  don't  know,  papa.  If  it  was  not  for  that,  I 
am  sure  I  do  not  know  what  it  could  be  for,"  re- 
plied Lilias.  "  I  was  trying  to  get  about  by  myself 
as  you  wished  me  to  do,  and  then  I  stumbled  and 
fell,  and  I  thought  you  would  all  have  been  sorry 
to  see  me  so  when  you  came  home,  and,  instead  of 
it,  you  were  quite  displeased.  It  is  very  hard,  I 
think  ;"  and  still  under  the  influence  of  temper,  she 
began  again  to  cry. 

"  Lilias,  my  child,"  said  her  father  tenderly, 
drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  her,  and  taking  her 
hand  in  his,  "you  grieve  me  much.  Your  little 
heart  is  at  this  moment  full  of  pride,  and  injustice, 
and  evil  feelings.  How  unlike  is  it  to  the  spirit  of 
Christ !  Let  us  look  into  this  matter  together,  my 
love,  and  may  God  of  His  mercy  show  you  wherein 
your  fault  lies.  It  is  He  only  who  can  do  so. 
Last  night,  Lily,  a  new  and  holy  desire  seemed  to 
possess  your  heart ;  you  felt  that  you  had  been 
striving  against  God,  and  refusing  to  '  hear  the  rod, 
and  Him   who  had  appointed  it,'  and  you  were 


PRIDE    SUBDUED.  123 

sorry,  and  I  well  believe  that  it  was  with  real  de- 
sire to  retiirn  and  repent,  and  to  walk  henceforward 
with  Hiin,  that  you  spoke  as  you  then  did.  I  be- 
lieve also,  my  love,  that  your  request  that  I  should 
leave  you  alone  this  morning,  was  dictated  by  the 
same  right  spirit ;  and  I  cannot  tell  my  little  girl 
what  thankfulness  it  produced  in  my  heart,  when  I 
found  her  actively  warring  against  self,  by  giving 
up  that  which  I  knew  it  must  have  cost  her  much 
to  relinquish." 

As  Mr.  Hope  spoke  thus  affectionately,  and  yet 
sorrowfully,  Lilias  turned  round  quickly,  threw  her 
arras  round  his  neck,  and,  pressing  her  face  against 
his  shoulder,  said  in  low  tones  interrupted  by  sobs, 

"  Yes,  dear  papa,  I  did  care  very  much.  I  am  so 
sorry  I  vexed  you.     Do  forgive  me." 

"  I  will  indeed  forgive  you  freely,  my  child,  for 
the  sorrow  and  disappointment  you  have  caused 
me.  But  let  us  go  on,  love,  and  see,  if  we  can, 
why  it  was,  and  in  what,  that  you  failed.  Pleased 
with  the  effort  you  had  made,  you  began  to  think  of 
it  with  self-elation ;  you  did  not  therefore  humbly 
seek  God's  help  to  lead  you  through  the  little  pri- 
vations and  inconveniences  which  were  likely  to 
result  from  the  loneliness,  combined  with  want  of 
sight,  to  which  you  had  never  before  been  exposed, 


124  BLIND    LIU  AS. 

but  you  set  about  acting  in  an  untried  and  new  po- 
sition in  your  own  strength,  and  with  self-confidence, 
instead  of  confidence  in  God.  Now,  had  you  been 
trying  in  a  right  and  humble  spirit  to  '  do  the  best 
you  could,'  and  had,  under  these  circumstances, 
stumbled  and  struck  yourself,  I  do  not  think  you 
would  have  got  into  a  passionate  fit  of  crying,  and 
struck  your  poor  nurse,  and  have  been  cross  with 
me  and  Maud.     Do  you  think  you  should  V 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Lily. 

"  I  think  you  would  have  laughed,  and  jumped  up 
again,  and  made  another  trial,  and  either  with  or 
without  another  trip,  would  have  got  out  on  the  ter- 
race, and  pleased  us  all  by  showing  us  how  well 
our  precious  little  girl  was  getting  on  in  her  new 
learning ;  and,  Lily,  what  else  would  have  given 
our  hearts  joy  V 

"  To  see  that  I  was  beginning  to  try  to  have  fel- 
lowship with  God,  and  to  try  to  be  happy  without 
my  sight,  papa  V 

"  Yes,  darling  ;  that  was  it.  But  I  hope  I  shall 
yet  not  be  disappointed.  I  see  that  you  are  con- 
scious of  your  fault,  and  I  think  you  will  try  not  to 
be  so  proud,  and  impatient,  and  petulant.  But  al- 
ways remember  that  it  must  be  '  by  God's  help,' 
and  remember  also,  dear,  that  in  such  little  trials 


PRIDE    SUBDUED.  125 

as  that  of  this  morning,  you  are  more  likely  to  be 
foiled,  than  if  assailed  by  those  of  a  much  more  se- 
rious nature.  When  a  man  goes  out  to  battle  with 
a  mighty  foe,  who  he  fears  may  kill  him,  he  buckles 
on  all  his  armor,  and  sees  that  every  piece  is  sound 
and  in  its  place ;  but  when  he  goes  out  to  meet  a 
comparatively  insignificant  enemy,  he  thinks  not  of 
doing  so  :  consequently,  he  is  often  more  injured 
and  worried  by  the  latter  than  he  is  by  the  former. 

And  so  with  us,  we  forget  to  buckle  on  the  '  ar- 
mor of  faith '  when  we  go  to  meet  vexations, 
whereas  if  we  know  that  we  are  to  encounter  afflic- 
tions, we  bind  on  our  panoply  and  are  safe !" 

Many  earnest  kisses  had  poor  Lily  impressed  on 
her  ffither's  forehead  and  hands  and  cheeks  from 
time  to  time,  as  gently  di'awing  her  nearer  and 
nearer  to  his  heart,  he  thus  won  her  from  her  pride 
and  anger.  Truly  he  might  have  dealt  with  her 
sternly,  for  he  was  her  father,  and  she  was  at  the  mo- 
ment an  unduliful  child;  but  he  would  not  thus  have 
led  her  soul  to  penitence,  and  so  to  peace,  had  he  done 
so,  nor  would  such  a  course  have  been  so  accordant 
with  our  heavenly  Father's  dealings  with  His  guilty 
children,  for  "  God  is  love,  and  he  that  dwellcth  in 
love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  lie  in  him." 

It  was  the  hour  of  the  pleasant  evening  meal  on 
11* 


126  BLIND   LILIAS. 

the  Lord's  day,  the  commencement  of  which  we 
have  described.  Tea  and  coffee,  with  fruit,  cream, 
and  other  more  substantial  food,  were  arranged  on 
a  table  spread  with  fine  white  linen,  and  shining 
plate  and  china,  in  a  cheerful  dining-room,  that 
commanded  an  exquisite  view  of  the  sea,  with  its 
varied  shore  of  beach,  rock,  and  cliff,  all  now  lit  up 
with  the  glory  of  the  evening  sunbeams,  for  it  was 
yet  early.  Mr.  Hope  and  his  three  girls  were 
seated  round  the  table,  Lilias  as  usual  nestling  close 
to  her  father's  side,  with  one  of  his  hands  held  fast 
in  her  own.  This  early  tea-meal  was  always  a  fa- 
vorite time  with  the  whole  party — their  rather  hasty 
dinner,  and  the  services  of  the  day,  forming  an  ex- 
cellent preparative  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  cake, 
fruit,  and  other  light  delicacies,  which  were  always 
specially  provided  for  the  Sunday  evening's  refec- 
tion. Maud  was  presiding  over  the  tea-table,  and 
Mabel  spreading  some  cream  on  bread  for  her  little 
sister. 

"  O  papa,"  said  Mabel,  "  did  you  see  Meta  and 
her  sisters  to-day  1  We  did,  and  they  looked  so 
nice.  There  was  a  pleasing-looking  lady  with  them, 
their  mother  no  doubt,  and  they  were  so  prettily 
dressed ;  all  the  girls  wore  hats,  papa,  true  German 


PRIDE    SUBDUED.  127 

hats,  and  they  had  gray  dresses  with  black  ribbons. 
Did  you  see  them,  papa  V 

"  No,  May,  I  did  not,"  replied  Mr.  Hope ;  "  it  is 
a  pity,  but  I  must  own  the  truth,  I  missed  that 
great  sight;  perhaps  it  might  be  that  I  was  not 
gazing  about  me.  Do  you  remember  what  good 
George  Herbert  says  ? — 

'  In  time  of  service  seal  up  both  thine  eyes 
And  send  them  to  thine  heart ;  that,  spying  sin, 
They  may  weep  out  the  stains  by  them  did  rise  ; 
Those  doors  being  shut,  all  by  the  ears  come  in. 
Who  marks  in  church-timo  others'  symmetry, 
Makes  all  their  beauty  his  deformity  !'  " 

Mabel  blushed,  and  Maud,  who  always  sought  to 
screen  her  sister,  said,  "'  But  we  followed  them  a 
little  way,  papa,  and  I  dare  say  it  was  then  that 
May  noticed  them,  for  I  did  not  see  them  in 
church." 

"  No,  Maudie,"  replied  Mabel ;  "  thanks  for  your 
kind  excuse,  but  it  was  not  so.  I  saw  them  come 
into  church,  and  although  I  tried  hard  not  to  think 
of  them,  I  could  not  keep  my  thoughts  together, 
and  I  looked  at  them  a  great  deal.  I  wish  I  had 
not,  for  I  know  it  is  wrong  to  gaze  about  at  church, 
and  I  never  can  attend  well,  after  I  have  once  no- 
ticed any  object  that  interests  me." 


128  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  True,  dear,"  replied  her  father.  •■  But  I  fear  it 
is  a  fault  to  which  we  are  all  too  much  inclined ;  I 
mean  that  of  giving  divided  attention,  and  allowing 
secular  thoughts  to  creep  in,  and  mingle  with  our 
most  sacred  services.  Well  may  we  pray,  as  that 
old  woman  of  whom  we  lately  heard  did,  that  God 
would  '  gather  up  the  wanderings  of  our  frail  hearts, 
and  pardon  them  for  Christ's  sake.' " 

"  But  you  know,  papa,  I  never  can  attend  to  that 
tiresome  Mr.  Scott,"  said  Mabel ;  "  his  manner  is 
so  dull,  and  his  sermon  even  more  so." 

"  My  dear  Mabel,"  replied  Mr.  Hope,  "  you 
know  I  much  disapprove  of  those  strictures  on  the 
clergyman.  There  are  few  sermons  from  which 
you  might  not  gain  something,  if  you  were  to  listen 
carefully,  remembering  that  he  who  addresses  you 
is  Christ's  minister.  An  old  lady  of  more  than 
seventy  once  said  to  me,  when  I  in  my  youth  made 
some  such  remark  as  that  which  you  have  now 
made,  '  My  dear  young  friend,  I  am  an  old  woman, 
and  have  heard  a  great  many  sermons,  but  I  never 
remember  hearing  one  which  had  not  something 
good  in  it,'    I  must  quote  Herbert  again  to  you: — 

'  If  all  things  else  lack  sense, 
God  takes  a  text  and  preacheth  patience.'  " 


PRIDE    SUBDUED.  129 

A  pause  ensued,  which  was  broken  by  little  Lily 
asking  Mabel  whether  she  thought  the  new  people 
as  attractive  as  she  had  at  first. 

"  Quite,"  replied  Mabel,  with  animation.  "  One 
thing  I  can  say  for  them,  and  that  is,  that  they 
behaved  better  at  church  than  I  did,  for  I  saw  that 
they  were  as  quiet  and  attentive  as  possible,  only 
the  little  one  glanced  up  at  me  two  or  three  times, 
as  if  she  recognized  me." 


XIV. 

THS  DOHMSR  FAMILY. 

fN  a  small  and  rather  shabby-looking  room,  fit- 
ted up  with  such  ill-assorted  and  half-worn  fur- 
niture as  it  is  usual  to  find  in  sea-side  village 
lodgings,  sat  the  party  which  had  so  excited  Mabel 
Hope's  interest,  A  common  Scotch  carpet  on  the 
floor,  scanty  window-curtains,  and  painted  chairs 
and  tables,  were  all  it  had  to  boast ;  and  yet  by 
some  magic  art  this  mean  little  room  bore  an  air 
of  elegance  that  struck  you  at  once  as  remarkable. 
There  is  something  in  the  presence  of  a  refined  and 
delicate  female  taste  which  has  the  power  of  turn- 
ing even  that  shabbiest  of  places,  a  common,  half- 
worn  lodging-room,  into  a  tasteful  and  pleasant- 
looking  abode ;  and  so  it  was  in  the  present  in- 
stance. A  gracefully  arranged  glass  of  wild  flowers, 
two  or  three  roses  and  lilies  in  a  classical-looking 
little  vase,  desks,  drawing  implements,  and  books, 
decorated  the  room  ;  and  an  air  of  neatness  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  furniture,  together  with  the 
absence  of  all  that  litter  of  bonnets,  and  shawls, 


THE    DORMER    FAMILY.  131 

and  other  out-door  gear  which  are  so  commonly 
thrown  off  and  thrown  down  on  the  chairs  and 
tables  of  sea-side  lodgings,  gave  at  once  the  idea  of 
a  ladies'  room — a  place  where  intelligent  people 
had  passed  the  day.  The  party  assembled  in  it  did 
not  belie  the  impression  that  the  appearance  of  the 
room  was  likely  to  have  made.  They  were  the 
girls  with  whom  Mabel  Hope  had  fallen  so  deeply 
in  love,  with  the  addition  of  an  elder  lady,  whose 
countenance,  though  mild  and  benign  in  its  ex- 
pression, bore  tokens  of  a  "vigorous  intellect  and 
strong  sense  working  within. 

Margaret  Dormer,  the  eldest  girl,  she  who  had 
been  riding  on  the  donkey,  was  resting  on  the  couch 
near  an  open  window.  She  was  less  pale  than 
when  the  Misses  Hope  had  seen  her,  but  appeared 
to  be  in  somewhat  delicate  health.  Rosalie,  the 
second  in  age,  sat  near  her  on  a  low  stool,  with  a 
German  guitar  slung  round  her  neck,  on  which  she 
was  striking  a  few  chords  from  time  to  time  as  they 
chatted ;  whilst  the  two  little  girls,  Emily  and 
Blanche,  were  seated  by  the  window,  examining  a 
store  of  pebbles  that  tliey  had  gathered  on  the 
beach. 

"  What  nice-looking  girls  those  were  we  saw  to- 


132  BLIND    ULIAS. 

night  on   the  beach,  Meta,"  said  Rose  ;  "  did  not 
you  think  so  V 

"  Very — most  attractive,"  replied  Meta — "  so 
amiable  and  bright-looking ;  I  longed  to  speak  to 
them." 

"Well,  we  should  in  Germany,"  said  Rosalie. 
"  I  do  hate  these  cold  English  customs." 

"  And  yet,  dear,  they  have  their  use,"  replied  her 
aunt,  Mrs.  Evelyn.  "  There  are  many  incongruous 
acquaintances  and  intimacies  made  on  the  Contin- 
ent, which  would  be  avoided,  if  there  were  a  little 
less  freedom  from  restraint  in  speaking  to  stran- 
gers. Do  you  remember  those  people  who  so 
teased  us  at  Munich  ?  You  know  we  should  have 
avoided  all  that,  if  we  had  kept  to  English  habits, 
and  not  fallen  into  chat,  and  then  into  intimate  visit- 
ing, before  we  knew  who  or  what  they  were." 

"  True,  aunt,"  replied  Meta  ;  "  there  is  good  as 
well  as  evil  in  the  custom  of  waiting  for  introduc- 
tions." 

'•  I  wish  we  knew  who  they  were,"  said  little 
Blanche,  the  pretty-footed  child  of  Mabel's  eulogy ; 
"  I  wish  we  knew  ;    can't  you  guess,  Meta  V 

"  Well,  Blanche,"  replied  Meta  laughing,  "  it  is 
an  odd  notion  that  I  should  be  able  to  guess  who 
strange  people,  in  a  strange  place,  may  be  ;  and  yet 


THE    DORMER    FAMILY.  133 

I  am  not  sure  but  that  I  can.  Do  you  remember 
Mr.  Nugent  Hope  whom  we  met  at  Signora  Rozzi's, 
at  Pan,  Rose?  That  tallest  girl  was  like  him,  and 
I  remember  he  told  us  that  his  father  and  sisters 
lived  somewhere  on  the  South  Devon  coast.  I 
should  not  wonder  if  they  were  the  Misses  Hope." 

"  Right,  Meta ;  I  am  sure  you  are  right,"  replied 
Rose.  "  I  saw  a  likeness  to  some  one,  but  I  could 
not  at  the  time  remember  to  whom.  It  was  Mr. 
Nugent  Hope,  and  she  was  very  like  him." 

"  How  much  I  should  like  to  know  them,"  said 
Margaret.  "  I  am  almost  sure  they  must  be  the 
Maud  and  Mabel  of  whom  Mr.  Hope  so  often 
spoke — '  my  bright  May,'  as  he  used  to  call  her." 

•'  And  that  then  must  have  been  that  dear  dog 
that  Mr.  Hope  told  me  such  a  sweet  story  about," 
said  Blanche.  "  You  icmembcr,  Emmy,  how  he 
jumped  from  a  boat,  and  picked  up  a  little  half- 
drowned  boy  who  was  just  sinking,  and  brought 
him  safe  to  shore  in  his  great  mouth,  without  biting 
him  a  bit.  I  was  half  afraid  he  would  have  fright- 
ened my  Fata  this  evening ;  but  if  I  had  but  guess- 
ed it  was  that  good  famous  dog,  I  would  have  made 
him  my  bi-'st  curtsey,  and  not  h;ive  minded  Miss 
Fata's  shy  looks.  Next  time  I  see  him  on  the  beach, 
12 


134  BLIND    LILIAS. 

I  will  tell  him  that  I  have  heard  of  his  good  deed, 
and  respect  him  as  I  ought." 

"  Indeed,  my  child,  you  will  do  no  such  thing," 
replied  Mrs.  Evelyn.  "  In  the  first  place,  we  do 
not  know  that  these  are  the  Misses  Hope,  or  that 
the  dog  you  saw  was  Neptune ;  and  even  if  your 
sister's  guess  should  prove  to  be  right,  we  nmst 
wait  until  we  are  sure  that  our  acquaintance  would 
be  acceptable  before  we  offer  it.  But  now,  sing  to 
me,  children — sing,  Rosie." 

"  What  shall  it  be  ?  "  asked  Eosalie ;  "  a  song  or 
a  hymn?  Oh,  I  know  what  you  will  like,  aunt;" 
and  she  began  in  a  pure,  clear,  young  voice,  to  sing 
that  beautiful  hymn  of  Schenk's — 

"  Wie  sind  die  vor  Gottes  throne  ? 
Was  ist  das  fur  eiue  scliaar  ?" 

As  she  sang,  Emily  and  Blanche  drew  near  and 
added  the  soft  notes  of  their  childish  voices  to  the 
strain,  and  before  it  closed,  Mrs.  Evelyn  and  Meta's 
also  swelled  the  melody,  until  its  last  emphatic 
lines  rose  on  the  air  with  a  power  and  pathos  un- 
speakable— 

"  Amen,  lob  sei  Dir  bereit ; 
Dank  und  preis  in  Ewigkeit." 

Would  that  the  English  showed  the  musical  skill 


THE    DORMEK    FAMILY.  135 

and  taste  of  the  Germans,  There,  young  and  old, 
poor  and  rich,  sing,  and  many  sing  well ;  and  why 
should  not  the  English  1 

Several  days  now  passed  pleasantly  by,  and  the 
young  ladies  who  were  the  objects  of  so  much  in- 
terest to  each  other,  often  met  in  the  roads  and 
lanes  which  encircled  the  village,  or  on  the  sea-shore, 
and  never  without  casting  furtive  glances  at  each 
other.  Margaret  had  ascertained  that  Maud  and 
Mabel  were  the  Misses  Hope,  and  they  in  return  had 
discovered  the  names  of  the  strangers,  and  that  they 
lodged  at  Cove  Cottage,  a  small  house  not  very  far 
from  their  own  gate ;  but  beyond  this  they  had  not 
gathered  any  information  concerning  them,  save 
that  they  were  likely  to  remain  at  Coombhurst 
during  the  summer. 

Another  week  had  escaped,  and  another  happy 
Sunday  passed  over  the  heads  of  our  young  friends. 
Lilias  had  in  some  degree  taken  warning  by  her 
failure,  and,  adopting  the  advice  of  her  kind  and 
wise  father,  had  given  herself  up  to  her  elder  sister's 
guidance ;  Maud  having  undertaken  to  lead  her 
about  and  initiate  her  by  degrees  into  the  difficulties 
of  finding  her  way  alone — a  point  which  the  poor 
child  was  now  very  anxious  to  attain.  Naturally 
independent  and  eager,  she  had  felt  the  affliction 


136  BLIND    LILIAS. 

which  it  had  pleased  God  to  lay  on  her  more 
severely  than  a  child  who  had  been  used  to  rely  on 
others  would  have  done.  Rather  delicate  in  health, 
she  had  been  accustomed  from  her  earliest  child- 
hood to  flit  about  the  fields  and  hills,  either  on  foot 
or  on  her  pony,  with  but  little  restraint ;  and  al- 
though her  education  had  not  been  neglected,  it  had 
not  been  allowed  to  occupy  many  hours  in  the  day  ; 
or  rather,  we  should  say,  that  part  of  education 
which  is  of  a  sedentary  character  had  not  been 
allowed  to  occupy  her  for  any  length  of  time  to- 
gether, for,  situated  as  she  had  been,  as  the  com- 
panion of  her  accomplished  father  and  sisters,  edu- 
cation, and  that  of  the  highest  order,  had  proceeded 
even  during  those  very  hours  in  which  she  was  ap- 
parently employed  only  in  out-of-door  gambols. 

Lilias'  mind  and  intellect  were  of  the  highest 
tone,  and  her  dispositions  excellent,  but  as  we  have 
before  said,  the  pride  and  self-reliance  of  her  char- 
acter, instead  of  leading  her  to  strive  against  the 
results  of  the  affliction  which  had  deprived  her  of 
the  independent  powers  she  once  possessed,  had  led 
her  haughtily  to  reject  all  aid,  and  at  the  same  time 
sullenly  to  resolve  that  she  would  make  no  effort 
to  lighten  the  life-long  trial  that  had  fallen  on  her. 
But  now    a  new  spirit  seemed  to  possess  her.     It 


THE    DORMKK    FAMILY.  137 

appeared  as  though  her  father's  prayers  for  his  child 
had  been  answered,  and  a  new  life  implanted  in  her 
young  heart — as  if  the  Comforter  had  Himself  de- 
scended on  her,  and  brought  submission  to  her  re- 
bellious spirit ;  and  Lilias  was  now  beginning  to 
give  evidence  by  her  conduct,  which  was  at  the 
same  time  more  submissive  and  more  energetic, 
that  a  change  was  passing  upon  her. 

"  Maud,  will  you  take  me  to  my  lessons  again, 
as  you  used  before  I  was  blind  f  she  said,  on  the 
Sunday  after  the  one  the  history  of  which  we  have 
before  recorded,  "I  think  I  have  not  quite  for- 
gotten my  French  ;  and  although  I  cannot  now  write 
exercises,  I  think,  if  you  gave  me  the  sentence  in 
English,  I  could  say  it  in  French,  and  then  you 
could  correct  it  as  I  spoke ;  and  there  are  many 
things  I  might  do.     You  would  not  mind,  Maud  f 

"  Oh  no,  darling  !  1  should  like  it,"  replied  her 
sister,     "  When  shall  we  begin  1  " 

"To-morrow,  if  you  can  spare  time  ;  and  I  shall 
like  to  go  on  with  music.  Drawing  must  be  given 
up — and,  for  ever  !  O  Maud  !  (Lily  had  a  marked 
talent  for  drawing.)  Well,  never  mind — I  must 
not  begin  to  be  sorry  ;  and  I  shall  ask  papa  to  read 
history  to  me,  and  question  me  ;  and  May  shall 
teach  me  botany,  and  you  will  see  I  shall  not  be  a 
12* 


138  BLIND    LILIAS. 

dunce  at  last.  That  is,"  added  she,  very  gravely, 
"  if  God  will  help  me ;  but  I  do  not  deserve  that 
He  should,  Maud,  I  have  been  so  very  wicked.  I 
had  quite  made  up  my  mind  that  I  never  would 
try  to  do  anything.  And,  Maud,"  said  she,  hiding 
her  face  on  her  sister's  shoulder,  "  I  have  said  such 
wicked  things  to  God,  and  blamed  Him  for  doing 
what  He  did,  as  if  I  could  know  what  was  best, 
and  I  have  never  prayed  to  Him  since  I  got  better 
and  was  able  to  think,  except  sometimes  to  ask  Him 
to  kill  me  at  once,  instead  of  letting  me  live  on  so 
blind  and  desolate.  Will  God  ever  forgive  me, 
Maud  ?  When  papa  talked  so  kindly  to  me,  and 
told  me  what  that  little  boy  said,  and  that  he  would 
rather  be  blind  himself  than  that  I  should,  then  all 
that  sank  down  into  my  heart,  and  I  became  very 
sorry  for  my  faults  in  refusing  to  accept  what  God 
thought  best,  and  grieving  you  all  so  much.  Will 
God  forgive  me,  do  you  think,  Maud  1" 

It  was  not  easy  for  Maud  to  answer  her,  for  Lily's 
earnestness,  and  sorrowful  confession  of  a  state  of 
mind  of  which  her  sister  had  no  conception,  almost 
wholly  overpowered  her,  and  she  was,  consequently 
silent  for  a  moment. 

"  You  think  He  will  not  Maud  1"  she  asked,  in  a 
startled  voice,  when  she  found  that  her  sister  did 


THE    DORMER    FAMILY.  139 

not  reply.  "  Oh,  don't  say  so  !  I  hope  He  will, 
and  that  I  shall  never  do  so  again." 

"  Indeed,  my  precious  child,  I  do  not  think  so. 
'  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,'  Cast  all  your 
care  in  penitence  on  Him,  dearest.  No  one  was 
ever  refused  forgiveness  who  sought  it  for  Christ's 
sake." 

"  But  it  is  such  a  long  time — ten  whole  months 
that  I  have  refused  to  speak  to  God,  and  looked  on 
Him  as  my  enemy." 

"  True,  dear  ;  but  God  is  long-suffering,  plenteous 
in  mercy  and  truth.  Return  to  God,  and  He  will 
not  refuse  a  penitent  sinner.  But  be  careful,  dear- 
est Lily  ;  the  Scripture  says, '  God  will  speak  peace 
unto  His  people,  and  to  His  saints,  but  let  them  not 
turn  again  to  their  folly!'  Do  not  you  let  repining 
thoughts  ever  harbor  in  your  heart  again.  If  you 
feel  them  coming,  turn  away  from  them,  and  try, 
dear,  never  to  brood  over  your  troubles.  Ponder 
God's  mercy  as  much  as  you  will,  and  think  as 
much  as  you  like  of  all  the  things  you  can  do  to 
lighten  the  trial,  but  never  allow  yourself  to  brood 
over  the  thought  of  your  blindness,  or  to  become 
morbid  in  your  feelings  about  it." 

"  I  will  try,  darling  Maud,"  answered  Lily  ;  "  I 


140  BLIND    LILIA8. 

thank  you  so  much  for  talking  to  me.  I  fear  I  shall 
be  twice  the  trouble  in  teaching,  now  that  I  have  no 
sight ;  but  I  will  do  my  very  best,  and  try  to  give 
you  as  little  trouble  as  1  can." 

"But,  Lily,"  said  Maud,  "I  rather  doubt  what 
papa  and  the  doctor  will  say  to  all  this  notion  about 
study." 

"  What  is  all  this  notion  about  study  ?"  said  Mr. 
Hope,  who  had  entered  thd  room  unobserved. 
"  What  !  is  Lily  going  to  Oxford  to  join  Everard 
in  his  rooms,  and  try  for  a  double  first  ?" 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Lily,  "  but  I  want  to  begin  les- 
sons again.     May  I  ?" 

"  No,  my  child,  not  yet.  I  must  see  you  a  little 
stronger  before  I  have  any  set  studies." 

"  O  papa  !"  began  Lilias,  with  a  little  of  the  old 
pettish  look  gathering  on  her  face — "  O  papa  !  I  wish 
it  so  much  ;  do  let  me  !" 

Maud's  hand  was  laid  on  her  shoulder  with  a 
gentle  pressure,  and  the  word  "  Remember  "  breathed 
softly  in  her  ear. 

"  No,  papa,  I  forgot ;  I  will  not  try  till  you  see 
fit,"  said  the  little  girl,  making  a  strong  effort  to 
subdue  herself;  and,  drawing  Maud's  head  towards 
her,  she  whispered,  "' Let  them  not  turn  to  their 
folly.'  Say  '  Folly  '  to  me,  Maudie,  when  I  forget, 
and  I  shall  understand." 


XV. 

FRIENDSHIPS  ESTABLISHED. 

^^"|E  must  now  introduce  our  readers  to  Mr. 
'^W  Hope's  library,  and  a  most  comfortable 
room  it  certainly  was.  Wishing  to  unite 
his  children  with  him  in  all  his  pursuits,  the  library, 
although  nominally  his  own  peculiar  possession,  and 
as  frequently  called  "Papa's  study"  as  it  was  the 
Library,  had  in  fact  become  a  sort  of  family  sitting 
room,  with  these  exceptions,  that  no  visitors  were 
ever  shown  into  it  except  such  as  were  specially  in- 
vited for  some  literary  or  scientific  purpose;  and 
that  no  needle- work,  or  other  such  employment, 
had  place  there.  If  the  girls  liked  to  share  his  oc- 
cupations, or  to  carry  on  their  own  studies  there, 
they  were  always  welcomed,  but  it  was  to  be  con- 
sidered as  a  place  for  quiet  retreat  and  study,  and 
no  one  who  sat  there  was  to  be  interrupted  by 
idlers.  Here  the  whole  family  usually  assembled 
for  half-an-hour  directly  after  their  early  breakfast, 
to  read  some  given  portions  of  the  Word  of  God, 


142  BLIND    LILIAS, 

and  converse  on  the  sacred  subjects  thus  presented 
to  them. 

Mr.  Hope,  himself  well  read  in  the  Scripture, 
and  his  heart  deeply  influenced  by  its  Divine  teach- 
ing, was  in  an  unusual  degree  capable  of  making 
this  morning  exercise  useful  and  interesting  to  his 
children  ;  books  and  maps  were  consulted,  and  the 
letter  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  the  Bible  illustrated 
to  them,  and  impressed  on  their  minds. 

It  was  on  a  day  but  a  short  time  after  the  events 
which  we  have  recorded,  when,  the  Scripture  lesson 
being  concluded,  and  Maud  and  Mabel  busy  re- 
placing the  books  which  had  been  taken  down  for 
reference,  on  Mr.  Hope's  giving  the  signal  that 
they  were  now  disengaged,  by  ringing  the  bell,  the 
letter- bag  was  brought  in  and  opened.  There  was 
a  letter  for  Lilias  from  her  brother  Vernon,  and 
one  for  Maud,  from  some  friend.  Mabel  was  busy 
reading  Lily's  letter  to  her  in  a  low  tone  near  the 
window,  and  Mr.  Hope  deeply  engaged  in  perusing 
a  letter  written  on  foreign  paper.  As  he  read,  a 
smile  of  amusement  passed  gradually  from  his  eye 
to  his  lip,  and  over  his  whole  countenance. 

"  What  is  it,  father  V  said  Maud,  who,  having 
just  finished  her  letter,  saw  that  that  held  by  her 
father    was   from    her   brother    Nugent.      "  What 


FRIENDSHIPS    ESTABLISHED.  143 

amuses  you  so  much  ? — is  Nugent's  heart  caught  at 
last  by  some  fair  foreigner  V 

"  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  do  tell  us,  dear  pater  ;  there  is 
such  a  funny  smile  on  your  face — do  tell  us,"  said 
May  who  had  heard  Maud's  question,  and  leaving 
Lily's  letter  in  the  midst,  had  hastened  to  the  table, 
and  springing  to  Mr.  Hope's  side,  began  to  peep  at 
the  letter  which  lay  open  before  him,  as  he  threw 
himself  back  in  his  chair  laughing. 

"  No,  no,  Miss  May  ;  why  should  you  get  pos- 
session of  the  news,  saucy  child,  before  your  better 
behaved  sister  1   Go  along,  monkey,  and  sit  down." 

"  I  know  what  it  is,  pater — Nugent  is  going  to  be 
married,  and  bring  home  some  pretty  little  frisky 
Smyrniote,  or  some  beautiful  Italian  Contessa,  as 
his  bride — now  do  tell  us,  papa — -I  know  I  shall  like 
Nugent's  choice,  whoever  it  may  be." 

"  Well  done.  May  !"  said  Lilias  merrily.  "  Nu- 
gent always  used  to  like  dark  beauties,  so  perhaps 
he  will  bring  home  a  little  negro  wife,  with  curly 
wool  and  white  teeth  ;  and  if  he  does,  you  will  be 
sure  to  admire  her  if  Nugent  does,  and  we  shall 
have  to  teach  her  English." 

"Well,  young  ladies,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  "  when 
you  have  speculated  quite  enough  to  please  you, 
you  shall  hear  Nugent's  lettor.  and  judge  for  your- 


144  BLIND    LILIAS. 

selves  whether  anything  in  it  indicates  that  your 
brother  means  to  jump  to  the  conclusion  of  his 
state  of  freedom,  as  aptly  as  Miss  Mabel  Hope  can 
jump  to  a  conclusion  on  his  designs.  The  letter  is 
dated  from  Constantinople,  but  instead  of  endeavor- 
ing to  enlighten  me,  after  the  manner  of  tourists  in 
general,  on  the  appearance  of  the  city  of  the  Sul- 
tan, and  the  actual  admeasurement  of  each  of  its 
mosques  and  palaces,  instead  of  imparting  to  me  his 
reflections  on  the  Turkish  government,  or  the  reli- 
gion of  Mohammed,  this  is  what  he  says : — 

"  '  My  dearest  Father, — I  write  in  much  haste, 
being  about  to  set  sail  for  a  tour  in  the  Grecian  Ar- 
chipelago, but  I  have  just  heard  that  some  friends 
with  whom  I  became  acquainted  at  Pau,  and  who  I 
am  sure  you  will  like,  are  purposing  to  pass  the 
summer  months  at  Coombhurst,  or  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  I  must  beg  you  all  to  become  acquainted 
as  soon  as  possible,  as  I  am  confident  that  acquain- 
tance will,  in  this  case,  soon  lead  to  intimacy  and 
friendship.  I  am  satisfied  that  my  dear  sisters  will 
find  both  pleasure  and  benefit,  from  close  associa- 
tion with  " 

Here  Mr.  Hope  paused  and  looked  archly  at 
Mabel — "  What  is  the  first  name  that  rises  hope- 
fully to  your  mind,  May  ?" 


FRIENDSHIPS    ESTABLISHED.  145 

"  Oh,  the  Misses  Dormer,  papa  !  is  it  the  Misses 
Dormer  ?  oh,  do  tell  us,  papa !"  exclaimed  Mabel, 
engerly. 

"  What  say  you,  Maud  1"  said  Mr.  Hope.  "  Go 
back,*'  added  he,  laughingly,  putting  aside  Mabel, 
who  had  again  tried  to  possess  herself  of  the  news, 
by  creeping  into  his  chair,  and  peeping  at  the  let- 
ter •  '•  I  won't  tell  you  at  all  if  you  are  so  impa- 
tient ;  there  now,  sit  still,  and  I  will  read  the  rest 
— but  I  have  not  had  Maud's  answer  ;  are  you  as 
anxious  that  your  brother's  friends  should  prove  to 
be  these  young  damsels  as  Mabel  is  V 

"  Perhaps  not  as  anxious,  papa,"  replied  Maud. 
"  You  know  it  is  not  my  way  to  be  so  enthusiastic 
as  May,  but  I  do  confess  that  I  greatly  admire 
those  girls,  and  I  have  also  taken  a  strong  liking  to 
the  elder  lady,  Mrs.  Evelyn  I  think  they  call  her — 
their  aunt,  I  mean." 

"Well  now,  listen,"  said  Mr.  Hope.  "'My 
dear  sisters  will  find  both  pleasure  and  benefit  from 
close  association  with  the  Misses  Dormer,  and  their 
excellent  aunt  Mrs.  Evelyn.  Maud  and  Meta  will 
t^ilk  German  together,  Rosalie  and  Mabel  can  botan- 
ize, for  Rose,  though  younger  than  Mabel,  is  a 
clever  little  thing,  and  a  capital  botanist ;  and  you, 
mv  dear  father,  will  delight  in  hearing  their  singu- 


146  BLIND    LILIAS. 

lar  and  touching  voices  joined  in  sacred  song  with 
those  of  our  dear  girls.  Mrs.  Evelyn  will  be  an 
acquisition  to  you  all ;  she  is  a  sterling  character, 
and  with  much  originality  of  mind,  and  a  heart 
softened  and  refined  by  the  influence  of  sanctified 
sorrow.  My  poor  dai^ling  Lily,  too,  will  be  the 
gainer  by  the  companionship  of  two  very  sweet  lit- 
tle girls,  and  if  you  all  talk  of  me  sometimes,  why, 
so  much  the  better.  And  now  farewell — my  next 
from  classic  ground.'  " 

We  need  not  say  that  but  te^v  hours  elapsed  be- 
fore Mr.  Hope  and  his  daughters  presented  them- 
selves at  the  door  of  Cove  Cottage,  and  as  all  par- 
ties were  disposed  to  friendship,  an  arrangement 
Avas  made  for  a  sail  together  that  very  afternoon, 
which  ended  in  the  whole  party  from  the  cottage 
returning  to  take  tea  at  the  Grange. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  say  when  the  first  visit 
was  ceremoniously  i-eturned  by  the  Dormer  party, 
for  from  that  day  forward  such  a  continual  inter- 
change of  visits  and  notes,  German  lessons,  and 
botanical  excursions,  commenced,  that  it  would  be 
far  too  fatiguing  to  detail.  Each  girl  found  a  friend, 
and  all  were  pleased  with  each  other. 

Lilias  was  steady  in  her  efforts  to  regain  some 
of  her  lost  power,  and  become  able  to  look  her 


FRIENDSHIPS    ESTABLISHED.  141 

affliction  in  the  flice,  and  meet  it  bravely.  Of  course 
there  were  constant  failures,  and  these  were  often 
followed  by  fits  of  impatience,  and  now  and  then 
of  anger,  which  made  her  for  the  moment  retract 
all  her  good  resolutions,  and  throw  herself  down  on 
the  couch  in  the  same  rebellious  and  insubordinate 
spirit  as  of  old,  under  which  she  had  so  long  suc- 
cumbed. But  a  new  life  was  in  her,  and  though 
the  adversary  did  not  fail  to  tempt  and  try  her,  and 
the  evil  nature  within  but  too  often  yielded  to  his 
suggestion,  yet  the  little  girl  was,  by  God's  Spirit, 
enabled  after  these  falls  to  rise  again,  and  renew 
her  resolves,  and,  by  seeking  fresh  strength,  to  g:un 
more  and  more  firmness  each  day.  Her  health  had 
now  so  much  improved,  probably  in  part  from  the 
happier  state  of  her  mind,  and  from  the  exercise 
and  air  which  she  now  took,  that  within  two  or 
three  weeks  from  the  time  her  efforts  first  began, 
she  was  allowed  to  go  to  church,  and,  for  the  lirst 
time  since  her  accident,  the  poor  blind  child  once 
more  sat  and  knelt  beside  her  father  in  the  house 
of  God.  There  was  trial  in  this,  too.  To  be  led 
into  church,  to  be  unable  to  see  the  clergyman,  or 
to  glance  towards  any  of  those  friends  whom  she 
had  been  used  to  meet  there,  was  a  trial.  But  even 
out  of  this  God   brought  good ;  for,  on  her  return 


148  BLIND    LILIAS. 

home,  she  reminded  hei-  father  of  the  passage  from 
Herbert  that  he  had  quoted,  and  said  cheerfully, 
"Then,  papa,  you  see  I  have  not  to  do  for  myself 
what  you  said — '  In  time  of  service  seal  up  both 
thine  eyes.'  God  has  done  that  for  me,  and  now  I 
can  never  stare  about  the  church  as  I  used  some- 
times to  do." 

"True,  my  child,"  replied  Mr.  Hope.  "  Get  all 
the  good  you  can  from  your  sore  affliction  ;  but  you 
must  try  to  control  your  thoughts,  dearest,  because 
they  are  as  prone  to  wander  off  from  the  service  as 
the  eyes  from  the  book,  and  though  the  poor  eyes 
can  never  now  supply  subject  for  those  wandering 
thoughts  to  rest  on,  they  will  find  it  in  other  ways 
if  you  are  not  careful. 

"  But  now,  come  and  we  will  take  a  walk  in  the 
garden  together,  until  your  sisters  are  ready  for 
tea,"  added  he,  affectionately.  This  was  always 
Lily's  great  delight,  and,  with  a  joyful  assent,  she 
took  her  father's  affectionate  hand,  and  the  next  half 
hour  was  spent  among  the  sweet  flowers,  in  pleas- 
ant chat  with  her  beloved  companion. 

Margai-et  Dormer  was,  as  Mabel  had  conjectured, 
not  the  sister  of  the  children  with  whom  the  Hopes 
had  seen  her,  at  least  not  so  by  both  parents.  She 
was  the  child  of  Mr,  Dormer  by  his  first  wife,  an 


FRIENDSHIPS    ESTABLISHED,  149 

Italian  lady,  who  had  died  when  her  daughter  was 
not  more  than  two  years  old.  Margaret  had  been 
entirely  brought  up  on  the  Continent,  partly  in  Italy 
and  the  south  of  France,  and  partly  in  Gernaany. 
When  she  was  about  four  years  old,  her  father 
married  again,  and  the  three  young  girls,  and  a  boy, 
who  was  now  at  school,  were  added  to  his  family. 
The  second  Mrs.  Dormer  died  about  two  years  be- 
fore the  period  of  which  we  speak,  and  Mrs.  Eve- 
lyn, her  widowed  sister,  who  had  for  some  years 
lived  with  them,  took  charge  of  the  family.  Mr. 
Dormer  did  not  long  survive  the  loss  of  his  beloved 
wife,  and  had  now  been  dead  for  about  nine  months. 
After  the  death  of  her  father,  a  severe  attack  of 
fever,  brought  on  by  nursing  him,  and  by  bitter 
grief  at  his  loss,  had  led  Margaret  to  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  and  so  great  a  degree  of  delicacy  had  been 
induced  by  it,  that  it  had  been  thought  desirable  to 
take  her  for  a  time  to  her  native  land.  They  had 
therefore  passed  the  last  winter  at  Pan,  and  in  the 
spring,  Mrs.  Evelyn,  finding  it  necessary  to  come 
lo  England,  had  decided  on  taking  up  her  abode  in 
the  sweet  viilnge  of  Coombhurst,  where  they  might 
find  quiet,  and  where  she  hoped  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  fresh  sea  air  and  lovely  natural  scenery  which 
the  place  afibrded,  her  precious  charge  would  soon 


150  BLIND    LILIAS. 

recover  her  health  and  spirits.  Meta  had  inherited 
a  considerable  fortune  from  her  mother,  but  for  the 
younger  children  there  was  but  a  small  provision  in 
the  relics  of  their  father's  property,  and  as  Meta 
was  not  of  age,  and  all  were  requiring  education, 
Mrs.  Evelyn  had  selected  this  village  as  a  place 
where  they  might  live  at  little  expense,  and  with 
much  enjoyment.  She  had  determined,  with  the 
assistance  of  Meta,  to  instruct  the  little  ones  her- 
self, whilst  Rosalie,  who  was  sufficiently  advanced 
to  require  such  aid,  was  to  receive  masters  from  the 
town.  Their  only  servant,  Bertha,  the  German 
woman  whom  the  girls  had  seen  with  the  Dormers 
on  the  beach,  had  lived  with  them  many  years ;  she 
knew  English  pretty  well,  but  when  alone  with 
the  young  ladies,  she  usually  spoke  German,  in 
which  she  acted  wisely,  as  her  English  was  none  of 
the  purest,  and  her  marked  features  and  peculiar 
dress  drew  on  her  as  it  were  but  too  much  of  the 
notice  of  the  country  people. 

Such  v/as  the  party  with  whom  our  young  friends 
had  Itegun  to  form  an  intimacy,  destined  to  affect  them 
all,  more  or  less,  and  connected  with  the  teuderest 
interests  of  all  even  to  the  end  of  their  lives. 


XYI. 

il  SUDDEIT  OUTBREAK. 

"O'lJiyOW,  pater,  I  have  a  charming  plan  to  pro 
^jiy  pose,"  said  Mabel  one  evening,  when  both 
families  were  seated  in  an  alcove  in  the 
Grange,  enjoying  a  repast  of  fruit  and  cream,  with  a 
pleasure  which  belongs  only  to  the  young,  or  to 
those  whose  natural  tastes  have  not  been  vitiated 
by  worldly  excitement  and  jDampered  appetites. 
"  Now,  all  listen  and  approve,"  she  continued  ;  "  I 
propose,  that  as  both  Lily  and  Mela  are  ordered  to 
live  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open  air,  and  as 
Rose  and  I  like  it,  and  all  our  friends  would  like  to 
be  introduced  to  the  beauties  of  the  country,  and  as 
a  great  many  pleasant  things  would  be  sure  to  hap- 
pen from  it,  I  propose,  I  say,  that  the  present  au- 
gust party  should  go  once  in  every  week,  when 
weather  permits,  (you  see  my  scheme  is  well  di- 
gested, and  takes  in  all  contingencies,)  to  some 
beautiful  place  in  the  country,  or  by  the  sea,  taking 
with  us  some  dinner,  and  materials  for  tea-making, 
and  so  spend  the  whole  d.iy  together,  camp-fashion, 


152  BLIND    LILIAS. 

in  any  beautiful  nook  we  may  light  on.     Now,  all 
who  are  for  my  plan  hold  up  your  hands." 

"  Capital ! — carried  by  acclamation.  I  thought  it 
would  be,"  added  Mabel  laughing,  as  she  saw  every 
hand  lifted. 

"Well,  May,  if  Mrs.  Evelyn  approve,"  said  Mr. 
Hope,  "  I  see  no  objection,  and  think  it  an  admira- 
ble plan.  What  say  you,  dear  madam  ?  I  fear 
you  look  a  little  grave  on  it." 

"  No,  indeed,  Mr.  Hope,"  replied  Mrs.  Evelyn, 
"  I  like  the  plan  much,  but  there  are  some  difficulties 
which  present  themselves  to  my  mind.  In  the  first 
place,  I  think  one  whole  day  out  of  every  Aveek  is 
rather  too  much  to  give  to  mere  pleasure;  my  girls 
are  very  young,  and  lessons  must  not  be  neglected, 
although  I  am  willing  to  allow  a  considerable  degree 
of  relaxation,  especially  when  it  is  taken  in  the  open 
air.  Another  difficulty  is  that  I  scarcely  know  how 
so  large  a  party,  and  some  of  them  so  delicate,  can 
be  conveyed  to  the  distances  Mabel  seems  to  con- 
template; we  have,  as  you  know,  no  carriage,  nor 
must  we  often  indulge  ourselves  in  the  expense  of 
hiring  one." 

"  Well,  my  good  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Hope,  "  the 
last  named  difficulty  I  can  easily  meet.  We  have 
a  I'oomy  Coburg,  and  there  is  the  girls'  little  pony 


A    SUDDEN    OUTBREAK.  153 

carriage  that  will  hold  four,  and  then  there  is  a 
rongh  pony  that  belongs  to  the  school-boys,  who, 
by  tlie  by,  will  soon  be  at  home  to  join  our  parties, 
and  I  have  my  own  horse ;  so  between  all  these 
machines,  alive  and  dead,  I  think  we  shall  find  it 
easy  enough  for  us  all  to  go  comfortably,  and  a 
couple  of  servants  into  the  bargain.  I  confess,  how- 
ever, I  sec  the  full  force  of  your  first  objection ; 
and  yet  I  think  a  little  modification  of  our  plans 
might  obviate  that  too.  If  we  do  not  set  out  until 
twelve  or  one  o'clock  (according  to  the  distance  we 
purpose  going),  as  we  are  all  early  risers,  that  will 
leave  a  respectable  portion  of  the  day  for  study  ; 
and  if  your  young  ones  are  steady  and  work  well, 
a  good  deal  may  be  done  in  that  time  ;  and,  indeed, 
I  should  suggest  that  we  only  make  whole-day  ex- 
cursions occasionally,  and  at  other  times  take  a  very 
early  dinner,  and,  starting  directly  after  it,  get  a 
long  afternoon  and  evening,  and  a  pleasant  tea-drink- 
ing in  some  quiet  nook.  Then,  I  think,  wo  might 
also  combine  a  little  reading  and  intolloctual  pursuit 
with  our  jaunting.  We  could  not  be  on  the  move 
all  the  time  we  are  absent  from  home,  so  I  pro- 
pose that  a  couple  of  hoiu's,  after  we  reach  our  camp- 
ing ground,  should  be  spent  in  reading  some  volume 
of  good  history,  criticism,  or  some  other  useful  work. 


154  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Then  a  botanical  lesson  must  form  part  of  our  day's 
business,  and  this  can  be  carried  on  as  we  ramble 
about,  and  the  flowers  we  gather  will  form  subjects 
for  us  to   analyze  and  discuss." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  May,  eagerly  entering  into  the 
amendments  on  her  original  plan,  "  and  I  can  take 
my  portable  press  and  papers,  and  whilst  you  read 
to  us,  Eose  and  I  can  place  our  specimens  in  it." 

"  Very  well,  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Hope,  "  that  can 
easily  be  done." 

"  And,  papa,"  said  Maud,  "  let  it  be  a  rule  that 
each  in  turn  should  be  prepared  with  some  original 
essay,  or  tale,  or  poem,  or  some  nice  bit  of  transla- 
tion to  read  aloud.  No,  not  for  us  to  read  through  ! 
You  shall  read  all,  and  so  spare  our  blushes,  and  not 
let  any  one  but  you  know  whose  paper  you  are 
reading," 

"  I  suppose  you  will  not  wish  to  keep  up  your 
incog.^^  said  Mr.  Hope,  laughing,  "  if  you  find  your 
essay  admired  V 

"  Well,  we  shall  see  about  that,"  replied  Maud, 
merrily  ;  "  probably  not." 

"  That  is  a  capital  thought,  Maud,"  said  Meta, 
"  and  by  that  means  we  shall  have  not  only  a  pic- 
nic of  raspberry  tart  and  chicken,  but  an  intellectual 
pic-nie  too,  and  we  will  all  contribute — Mr.  Hope 
and  Auntie  also." 


A    SUDDEN    OUTBREAK.  155 

"Yes,  and  we  can  do  something,"  exclaimed  the 
delighted  children. 

'•  Lilias  shall  make  one  of  her  pretty  stories,  and 
I  will  write  it  down  for  her,"  said  Emily  ;  "  and 
the  writing  wjU  bo  my  share." 

"  And  Blanche  can  translate  one  of  Grimm's 
fables,"  said  Rosalie.  "  I  shall  like  that  part  as 
well  as  any  of  the  whole  plan." 

The  new  idea  was  long  discussed,  and  all  the  de- 
tails duly  considered  ;  and,  full  of  delight  at  the 
expected  pleasure,  tlie  young  party  separated,  all 
pi-omising  an  intensity  of  study  between  the  days 
of  action,  and  on  the  mornings  of  those  days — 
more  easily  promised  than  performed. 

"  I  am  truly  glad  of  having  made  the  acquisition 
of  this  new  friendship  and  alliance,"  said  Mr.  Hope 
one  day,  when  Emily  and  Blanche  had  been  spend- 
ing a  long  holiday  at  the  Grange,  and  they,  lead- 
ing Lilias  between  them,  had  just  left  the  room  to 
play  in  the  galleries  and  attic,  which  occupied  tln' 
upper  story  of  the  house.  He  spoke  to  Maud,  who 
was  sitting  alone  with  him — her  sister  being,  as  was 
of  late  usual,  gone  to  walk  with  Rosalie  and  Metn. 

"For  Lily's  sake,  you  mean,  papa?"  inquired 
Maud. 

"  Yes,  dear  ;  for  her  sake   I  meant  at  that  mo- 


156  BUND    LILIA8. 

ment,  but  I  think  it  is  good  for  you  all  to  have 
such  nice  young  friends.  Lilius  has  been  for  so 
long  a  time  accustomed  to  be  made  the  first  object 
with  us,  and  to  have  no  will  come  in  collision  with 
her  own,  that  I  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  of  giving 
her  some  notion  of  social  claims,  and  of  the  neces- 
sity of  yielding  to  others.  It  is  very  good  for  her, 
poor  dear  child." 

"  I  think  it  is,  papa.  It  is  good  for  us  all  some- 
times to  have  ourselves  tested  in  different  ways  ;  it 
is  so  easy  to  behave  Veil  when  nothing  interferes 
W'ith  our  daily  habits  and  likings,  or  for  a  time  de- 
prives us  of  what  we  have  been  used  to  fancy  was 
all  our  own."  Maud  spoke  rather  sadly.  Her 
father  fixed  a  steady  look  on  her  as  she  rose,  and, 
turning  aside,  began  to  make  some  little  alterations 
in  the  arrangement  of  a  group  of  flowers  that  stood 
near ;  but  he  made  no  comment,  and  Maud  return- 
ing, resumed — 

"  But  how  nicely  Lily  goes  on,  papa !  She  is 
quite  a  different  child  from  what  she  used  to  be — so 
obedient  and  gentle !  and  she  seems  to  have  got 
back  her  old  energy  of  character,  and  resolution  to 
conquer  all  difficulties.  She  really  makes  most 
wonderful  progress,  considering  her  great  disadvan- 
tages." 


A    SUDDEN    OUTBREAK.  157 

"  She  does,  my  dear  ;  and  I  thank  God  for  it," 
replied  Mr.  Hope.  "  I  do  trust  and  believe  that 
our  precious  child  has  received  that  new,  imperish- 
able life  into  her  heart,  which  will  in  time  purge 
out  the  old  leaven.  Yet  she  hns,  and  will  have, 
much  to  contend  witli  before  she  has  run  her  race. 
At  present  all  is  new  and  exciting  to  her,  and  she  is 
'  running  well  ;'  besides  which,  we  have  all  been 
very  careful  in  watching  over  her  and  assisting  her. 
But  there  is  still  too  much  self-satisfaction  about 
her.  I  shall  not  be  sorry  for  the  opportunity  which, 
as  I  suspect,  her  intercourse  with  these  children  will 
afford  of  letting  her  see  what  is  in  her,  and  whether 
she  has  so  fully  overcome  as  she  thinks." 

"  You  do  not  mean,  that  Lilias  deceives  us,  or 
pretends  to  be  better  than  she  is  ?"  said  Maud. 

"  ]>y  no  means,  Maud.  If  Lily  deceives  any  one 
it  is  herself  We  know  that  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
the  human  heart  to  deceive  itself — to  fancy,  when 
circumstances  allow  of  all  going  on  smoothly,  and 
we  arc  not  tried,  that  we  are  strong,  and  incapable 
of  MCts  which,  when  occasion  offers,  we  readily  com- 
mit. Lily's  pride  is  enlisted  on  the  good  side  just 
at  present.  She  feels  that  it  is  creditable  to  com- 
mand herself  and  behave  well  ;  and  so  it  is  rather 
a  help  than  a  hin  Irance  :  but  it  is  not  extinct,  and 
14 


158  BLIND    LILIAS. 

it  must  be,  before  she  can  walk  worthy  of  her 
Christian  vocation.  The  old  man  is  alive  and  ac- 
tive in  the  heart  of  the  dear  child,  although  he  is 
keeping  pretty  quiet  at  present.  But  he  must  be 
crucified  with  Christ,  his  deeds  and  ways  utterly 
rejected,  before  we  can  be  fit  disciples  of  the  '  holy 
child  Jesus.'  " 

Maud  did  not  reply.  She  was  thinking ;  and 
Mr.  Hope  soon  after  k'fc  the  room. 

We  will  now  follow  the  little  ones  to  their  play- 
room. Lilias,  eager  and  earnest  in  all  she  under- 
took, had  quickly  and  easily  learned  to  make  her 
way  about  the  house  alone ;  and  as  she  thus  gained 
exercise,  and  as  her  mind  became  less  morbid,  so 
her  bodily  health  strengthened,  and  she  was  now 
able  to  run  about  and  phxy  with  considerable  spirit 
and  strength.  There  were  some  games  from  which 
her  want  of  sight,  of  course,,  precluded  her ;  but 
there  were  others,  where  the  ear  had  more  to  do 
than  the  eye,  in  which  it  was  as  much  a  matter  of 
course  that  she  excelled  her  competitors. 

As  the  little  girls  went  up  the  stairs,  they  heard 
Ibe  voices  of  the  two  boys,  Vernon  and  Edward, 
who  had  returned  home  for  the  summer  holidays  a 
few  days  before ;  and  summoning  them  to  join  in 


A    SUDDEN    OUTBREAK.  159 

play,  the  whole  party  proceeded  to  the  long  gallery 
together. 

'•  What  shall  we  play  af?"  said  Emily. 

"  Oh,  blind-man's  bull","  said  Lily  ;  and  as  all 
agreed,  they  began  to  buid  a  handkerchief  over 
Vernon's  eyes,  he  being  the  eldest,  with  the  view  of 
making  him  the  blind  man.  Meanwhile  Lilias,  of 
course  not  seeing  what  was  going  on,  and  conclud- 
ing that  as  usual  she  should  occupy  that  position, 
placed  herself  in  the  middle,  and  began  to  feel  about 
for  a  captive. 

"  No,  Lily,  Vernon  is  to  be  '  blind  man,'  ''  i-aid 
Emily;  "  you  must  come  out.  Come  and  hold  my 
hand,  and  I  will  keep  you  from  going  wrong." 

"  No,  Vernon,  you  can't  be  blind  man,''  said  Lily, 
pettishly  ;  "  I  am  always  in  the  middle — of  course 
I  am." 

"  Vt^ell,  Lily,  of  course  you  are  not  this  time," 
said  Vernon,  "for  I  am  the  eldest ;  and  I  ask  all  if 
it  is  not  the  rule  for  the  eldest  always  to  be  blinded 
first  1" 

"  Certainly,"  "Yes,  always,"  were  the  ready  an- 
swers that  passed  from  lip  to  lip. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Lilias;  "  then  I  shall  not  play. 
I  am  not  going  to  stumble  about  and  get  knocks 
for  nothing;  and  if  I  am  not  blind  man  I  will  not 


IGO  BLIND    LILIAS. 

play ;"  and  she  went  and  sate  herself  down  on  a 
stool,  with  a  proud  and  sullen  look  on  her  face,  quite 
unlike  anything  that  had  appeared  there  for  a  long 
time  before. 

"  Oh,  do  play,  Lilias !  I  dare  say  Vernon  will  not 
mind ;  he  will  let  you  be  blind  man— won't  you, 
Vernon?"  said  Emily,  who  was  so  fond  of  Lily  that 
she  could  not  fancy  any  one  opposing  her. 

"  No,  Emily,"  said  Vernon ;  "  I  see  no  reason 
why  Lily  is  to  have  her  own  way  in  everything.  I 
don't  care  two-pence  whether  I  am  blinded  or  not, 
but  really  Lilias  must  not  be  so  absurd  ;"  and  he 
began  to  feel  round  him,  and  endeavor  to  seize  his 
nearest  neighbor. 

"  Fen  play .'"  said  one,  and  then  another  ;  "  we 
are  not  playing,  Vernon.  We  cannot  begin  until 
this  is  settled  about  Lily." 

"  Why,  what  is  there  to  settle  ?"  replied  Vernon. 
"  She  says  she  will  not  play  ;  and  so  let  her  sit  still, 
if  she  likes  it  better." 

"  Come,  Lily,''  said  little  Blanche,  "  do  not  be  so 
tiresome.  We  can  do  nothing,  you  see,  because  you 
are  so  conlralrij.''' 

"  Not  contrairy,  Blanche,"  said  Edward,  laughing  ; 
"  that  is  Devonshire.  It  is  only  nurse  who  says 
contrairy,"^ 


A    SUDDEN    OUTBREAK.  161 

They  all  laughed ;  for,  in  her  transit  from  Ger- 
man to  English,  Blanche  had  picked  up  some  curious 
Devonshireisms,  and  used  them  at  all  times,  with- 
out the  least  idea  that  she  did  not  speak  the  purest 
P^nglish. 

•'  Come,  Lily,"  said  Edward,  "  we  have  had 
enough  of  this.  Do  come  and  play,  and  not  be  so 
silly." 

"  I  shan't,"  was  Lily's  rude  answer. 

"  Come,  Lil,"  said  Vernon,  who  was  a  very  good 
tempered  boy,  "  I'll  give  up.  It  is  better  to  '  give 
up  one's  right  than  to  stand  up  and  fight ;'  so  I'll 
give  up,  and  you  shall  be  head  and  chief,  as  you 
always  like  to  be.  Here,'  said  he,  throwing  off  the 
bandage,  and  going  towards  her.  "  Poor  dear,  you 
do  not  need  any  bandage,  do  you  V  and  he  stooped 
down  and  kissed  her;  but  Li  lias,  moved  to  passion 
by  his  remark,  "  You  shall  be  head  and  chief,'' 
struck  at  him,  stamped  violently,  and  bursting  into 
a  fit  of  noisy  crying,  ran  down  the  stairs,  leaving 
all  the  young  party  dismayed  at  her  passion,  and 
greatly  vexed,  for  they  had  never  before  seen  Lilias 
under  the  inniu'iiof^,  of  Iioi'  natural  temper  and  proud 
spirit. 

Lily  pushed  her  way  down  the  first  flight  of  stairs, 
and  there  sat  down,  swelling  Avith  indignation,  and 
14" 


162  BLIND    LILIAS. 

cried  aud  sobbed  more  and  more  violently,  until  at 
last  her  voice  reached  the  ears  of  Maud,  who  was 
passing  near,  and  of  Mr.  Hope,  who  was  in  his 
dressing-room,  and  both  came  in  anxious  haste  to 
see  what  was  the  matter. 

"  What  is  it,  my  darling  V  said  Maud,  sitting 
down  by  her,  and  folding  her  arms  round  the  child's 
convulsed  little  form  ;  "  what  has  happened  V 

But  Lilias  angrily  repulsed  her,  and  springing  by 
her  father,  rushed  to  her  own  little  room.,  (striking 
herself  so  violently  against  the  door  as  she  entered, 
as  almost  to  fall  to  the  ground,)  and  darting  into 
the  room,  she  bolted  the  door,  and  throwing  herself 
on  her  bed,  gave  way  to  an  agony  of  tears  and  pas- 
sionate struggles. 

"  Leave  her  alone,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  see- 
ing that  Maud  scarcely  knew  what  to  do ;  "  leave 
her  to  herself.  This  is  just  what  I  told  you  must 
be.  Lilias  has  quarrelled  with  some  of  her  com- 
panions, and  until  her  passion  has  abated  it  will  be 
worse  than  useless  to  speak  to  her ;"  and  drawing 
Maud's  arm  witliin  his  own,  he  led  her  away.  But 
a  tear  glimmered  in  his  eye,  and  as  he  passed  the 
dressing-room  door,  he  dropped  Maud's  arm  and 
turned  in  thither,  saying,  '■  You  must  pray  for  your 
little  sister,  dear;  we  can  no  otherwise  help  her." 


XVII. 

AKGER  J&ITD  ITS  EFFECTS. 

^r'HE  children  whom  Lilias  had  thus  suddenly 
^^  deserted  looked  after  her  in  silent  dismay. 
Edward,  who  was  very  fond  of  Lily,  and 
always  took  her  part,  eagerly  exclaimed  against 
Vernon  for  having  been,  as  he  said,  "  so  selfish  as 
to  hinder  poor  blind  Lily  from  playing,"  and  would 
have  run  after  her,  but  Vernon  withheld  him. 

Vernon  was  a  fine,  sensible  lad  of  fourteen ; 
ardent  and  vivacious  in  the  extreme,  but  possessed 
of  sound,  clear  judgment  beyond  his  years.  "No, 
Edward,"  said  he,  **  I  am  very  soiTy  for  Lilias  ;  but 
it  is  not  either  right  or  reasonable,  that  because  she 
is  blind  she  should  be  encouraged  in  all  sorts  of  self- 
ish and  ill-tempered  ways.  I  appeal  to  all  whether 
I  did  anything  wrong  or  selfish.  I  even  offered 
to  give  up  to  Lily  (though  I  had  the  right),  and  she 
was  too  proud  to  accept  my  offer.  She  always  was 
a  passionate,  self-willed  little  thing,  and  now  I  think 
she  will  be  worse  than  ever,  especially  if  you  all 
give  up  to  her  so." 


164  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  Indeed,  Vernon,"  said  little  Emily  Dormer, 
"  I  do  not  think  Lilias  is  selfish  and  ill-tempered  in 
general.  I  never  saw  her  do  so  before,  and  I  am 
sure  she  will  be  very  sorry  by  and  by.  I  did  not 
know  before  that  she  was  passionate." 

"  Because  you  have  not  thwarted  her,"  replied 
Vernon.  "I  tell  you  that  she  always  has  been 
very  violent  and  self-willed,  and  as  proud  as  Luci- 
fer. Now,  you'll  see  by  and  by  she  will  hold  up 
her  head,  and  look  about  her  no  grandly,  just  as  if 
we  had  been  to  blame,  and  she  the  best  girl  in  the 
world.  Nobody  ever  caught  Miss  Lily  confessing 
herself  to  have  been  in  foult." 

"  Now,  Vernon,  there  you  are  quite  wrong," 
broke  in  Blanche.  '■  It  was  only  two  or  three  days 
ago  that  Lily  behaved  so  nicely  when  Maud  found 
fault  with  her  for  something,  and  she  said  she  was 
very  sorry,  and  knew  she  had  been  idle,  and  would 
try  to  do  better." 

"  Well,"  answered  Vernon,  "  I  am  sure  I  am  glad 
to  hear  it ;"  but  he  spoke  rather  scornfully,  and  as 
if  he  did  not  quite  believe  it. 

"  You  're  always  against  Lily,  Vernon,"  said 
Edward. 

"  Now,  don't  say  so,  Edward,"  replied  Vernon. 
"  I  love  Lilias  as  dearly  as  any  of  you  can,  but  it 


ANGER    AND    ITS    EFFECTS.  165 

cannot  be  denied  that  she  is  proud  and  self-wilJed  ; 
papa  and  Maud  both  allow  it;  and  as  to  Mabel, she 
has  no  patience  with  her.  I  thouglit  her  much  im- 
proved Mhen  I  first  came  home,  but  to-day  she  is 
unbearable." 

"I  think  Lily  is  improved  though,  Vernon,  judg- 
ing from  what  you  say,"  replied  Emily,  who, 
although  less  impulsive  and  eager  than  Blanche,  and 
certainly  not  a  clever  child,  had,  nevertheless,  a  fine 
thoughtful  mind,  and  much  power  of  quiet  obser- 
vation. "  And  I'll  tell  you  why  I  think  it  is — 
Lilias  has  become  more  religious  than  she  used  to 
be,  and  that  has  made  her  more  good ;  but,  then, 
"when  people  arc  religious,  you  always  expect  them 
to  be  gooder  than  they  can  be ;  and  so,  though  Lily 
is  gooder,  you  expect  that  she  will  never  be  naughty, 
and  then  you  are  disappointed  and  angry  with  her." 

"Very  true,  little  Miss  Wise-head,"  replied  Ver- 
non, laughing.  "  There  is  something  in  that ;  but 
you  know  the  Bible  says,  '  By  their  fruits  ye  shall 
know  them ;'  and  when  I  see  persons  who  profess 
t(>  be  of  the  right  sort  In-inging  forth  fruits  of  the 
Avrong  sort,  then  I  think  that  either  they  are  sham- 
ming, or  else  that  there  is  not  (he  power  in  religion 
that  people  say  there  is.  For  my  pari,  I  do  not 
profess  to  be  so  religious  as  papa  and  Maud  are ; 


166  BLIND    LILIAS. 

but  if  I  did,  I  should  expect  that  it  would  make  me 
as  good  and  holy  as  they  are.  Religion  does  not 
allow  of  pride  and  passion." 

"  But  Lily  is  better,  Vernon,"  said  Blanche ; 
"  and  she  will  be  better  and  better.  I  know  she 
will,  because  she  prays  to  God,  and  tries  to  be 
good." 

"  Well,  to-day  is  not  much  like  it,"  replied  Ver- 
non. "  But  come,  girls — come  and  play.  What 
shall  we  do  ?" 

Many  games  were  suggested,  but  none  pleased, 
for  their  power  of  enjoyment  was  gone,  and  at  last 
they  separated,  Vernon  going  off  to  some  out-door 
sport  with  his  brother,  and  the  little  girls  creeping 
down  to  Maud  to  be  amused  by  her  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

And  how  fared  it  with  poor  little  Lilias  all  this 
time? 

Overcome  by  passion,  she  had  fled,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  her  room,  and  there,  throwing  herself  on 
her  bed,  she  suffered  the  storm  to  rage  unchecked, 
until  its  violence  had  almost  brought  down  her 
bodily  strength,  and  she  became  calm,  save  that  a 
heavy  sob  now  and  then  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
room. 

And  now,  in  this  more  quiet  mood,  Lilias  began 


ANGER    AND    ITS    EFFECTS.  1G7 

to  brood  over  the  trials,  real  and  imaginary,  that 
lay  on  her.  "  She,  a  poor  blind  child,  weak  and 
delicate  as  she  was,  to  be  treated  thus  !  Her  bro- 
ther, whom  she  loved  so  dearly,  and  who  had  last 
holidays  given  up  to  her  in  everything,  to  set  him- 
self against  her  so  !  Every  one  was  against  her," 
she  said.  "  It  was  very  hard  on  her,  cut  ofF  as  she 
was  from  so  many  enjoyments,  that  her  oAvn  bro- 
thers and  her  little  friends  should  never  be  willins: 
to  give  up  to  her  in  the  least  thing!"  And  so  she 
brooded  on,  nor  strove  to  contend  against  the  un- 
just and  evil  thoughts  which  arose,  until  she  had, 
in  more  or  less  degree,  included  all  those  dear  ones 
whom  she,  nevertheless,  so  intensely  loved,  (and 
who  were  at  that  moment,  though  she  knew  it  nof, 
engaged  in  prayer  for  her,  and  weeping  over  her  in 
their  heart,)  in  the  same  condemnation. 

"  Maud,  if  she  had  loved  her  as  she  used,  would 
have  followed  her  into  her  room  to  soothe  and  com- 
fort her,  and  so  would  papa!  A  few  weeks  ago  he 
would  not  have  let  her  cry  and  moan  h\  herself; 
he  would  have  come  and  comforted  her,  an  1  have 
punished  Vernon,  and  talked  to  him  well  for  such 
cruel  behavior ;"  and  here  poor  Lily,  who  in  her 
anger  had  spoken  hor  thoughts  aloud,  moved  to 
fresh  tears  by  hor  own  foolish  and  sinful  cogitations. 


168 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


jigain  burst  out  into  passionate  sobs  and  noisy 
lamentations. 

A  gentle  knock  at  the  door  which  opened  from 
her  father's  room,  and  which  was  consequently  un- 
locked, here  drew  her  attention,  but  though  she,  on 
that  signal,  stilled  her  outward  signs  of  emotion, 
she  made  no  answer.  The  knock  was  not  repeated, 
but  the  door  gently  opened,  and  Emily  appeared  at 
it,  and,  drawing  softly  near  to  the  bed,  laid  her  lit- 
tle head  down  by  Lily's  tear-swollen  countenance, 
and  began  to  cry. 

Lily  lay  still  and  took  no  notice  of  her.  She 
affected  to  sleep,  forgetting  that  her  noisy  crying 
must  liave  made  her  little  friend  well  aware  that 
she  was  awake.  "  Lily,  dear  Lily,"  said  the  tender 
child,  "  I  am  so  sorry  !  Come  down-stairs,  Lily  ; 
the  boys  are  gone  out  rabbit-shooting,  and  Blanche 
and  I  want  you  so  much.  We  cannot  play  or  be 
happy  whilst  we  think  you  are  so  sad  here  by  your- 
self. Lily,"  she  repeated,  "  speak,  Lily  ;  I  know 
you  are  not  asleep." 

"  Go  along,  Emily,  and  don't  tease  me,"  s^iid 
Lily ;  "  I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
any  of  you  ;  we  were  a  great  deal  happier  before 
you  came  here,  and  I  wish  you  had  never  come ;  " 


ANGER    AND    ITS    EFFECTS.  169 

and  again  she  repeated  the  same  angry  words  that 
she  had  before  said,  "  that  no  one  loved  her,"  &c. 

"  O  Lily,  don't  say  so.  Indeed  it  was  not  our 
fault  that  Vernon  was  angry  to-day.  I  can't  bear 
you  to  say  that,  Lily,"  said  Emily. 

"  Well,  then,  T  can't  help  it,"  said  the  naughty 
and  unjust  child  :  '•  it's  very  true — Vernon  was  al- 
ways kind  to  me  last  year,  and  now  he  is  always 
cross,  and  I  don't  know  what  else  it  can  be.  Go 
away,  Emily,  I  don't  want  you  here  ;  it  is  very 
hard  I  can  have  no  peace  even  in  my  own  room," 
And  angrily  repulsing  poor  Emily,  Lilias  covei'ed 
her  head  with  the  bed-clothes. 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  colloquy,  Mr.  Hope, 
unseen  and  unheard,  had  entered  the  room  by  the 
door  that  Emily  had  left  open  behind  her,  and  had 
drawn  softly  near  to  the  bed  on  which  his  beloved 
though  naughty  child  lay.  Motioning  to  Emily  not 
to  speak,  he  gently  drew  her  towards  him,  kissed 
her  sorrowfully,  and  leading  her  to  the  door,  sent 
her  down  stairs,  and  himself  returned  and  sat  down 
by  Lily's  bed.  who  had  again  begun  to  utter  the 
sort  of  wailing  cry  which  children  who  have  exhaust- 
ed tiicir  strength,  but  not  their  passion  and  anger, 
are  wont  to  utter.  After  a  few  minutes,  liearing  a 
gentle  movement  near  her,  she  rose  up  on  the  bed, 
15 


170  BLIND    LILIAS. 

and  feeling  about  with  her  hands,  said,  "  Why  don't 
you  go  when  I  tell  you  ?  What  makes  you  stay 
there,  glorying  over  me  in  that  manner?  Go  this 
moment,"  and  striking  violently  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  had  come,  her  hand  fell  on  the 
head  of  her  father.  Something  in  even  that  sud- 
den touch  showed  her  that  it  was  not  Emily  whom 
she  had  struck  ;  and  passing  her  hand  over  his  hair, 
she  instantly  became  conscious  of  who  it  was  that  sat 
beside  her,  and  that  she  in  her  passion  had  struck  him. 

Shocked  and  terrified,  the  poor  child  cowered  be- 
neath the  covering,  now  thoroughly  roused  to  shame 
if  not  to  contrition. 

"  O  papa,  when  did  you  come  ?     How  came  you 

there?     I  thought ■"  but  ashamed  to  add  that 

she  had  thought  it  was  Emily,  and  had  meant  to 
strike  her,  she  suddenly  stopped. 

"  I  know,  Lilias,  you  thought  it  was  your  kind 
little  friend,  who,  seeing  how  much  I  was  displeased, 
had  by  her  affectionate  and  kind  intercession  ob- 
tained my  leave  to  come  up  and  see  whether  you 
were  yet  returned  to  your  senses.  But  I  doubted 
how  you  would  receive  her,  and  followed  her  that  I 
might  be  at  hand  in  case  it  should  be  as  I  feared." 

"Did  you  hear,  papa?"  asked  Lilias,  blushing 
and  distressed. 


ANGER    AND    ITS    EFFECTS.  171 

"I  did,  Lily  ;  nnd  not  I  only." 

"  O  pupa,  not  Mrs.  Evelyn — not  Meta  !"  said  she  ; 
for  Lilias  was  devoted  to  both,  and  to  gain  Mrs. 
Evelyn's  or  Meta's  approval,  was  to  her  at  all  times 
an  object  of  the  most  earnest  solicitude. 

"  You  would  not  have  liked  them  to  hear  you, 
then,  Lilias  ?" 

"  No,  papa  !"  whispered  she  ;  "  were  they  there  ? 
Oh,  don't  tell  me  if  they  were,  for  then  I  can  never 
bear  that  they  should  see  me  again  !" 

"  They  were  not  either  of  them  there,  my  dear," 
replied  Mr.  Hope. 

"  Then  who  was  it  ?  You  said  not  only  you  heard 
me  speak  to  Emily.  Was  it  Maud  who  was  with 
you,  papa  V 

Mr.  Hope  gravely  began  to  repeat  some  of  the 
former  verses  of  the  139th  Psalm  : — 

'"Tliou  compassest  my  path  and  my  lying  down, 
and  art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways.  For  there  is 
not  a  word  in  my  tongue,  but,  lo,  O  Lord,  thou 
knowest  it  altogether.'' 

"  It  was  One,  my  child,  whom  you  have  professed 
to  love  better  than  either  of  your  new  friends.  Lilias, 
what  has  He  seen  in  your  conduct,  of  all  those  things 
which  He  loves,  to-day  1  what  has  there  been  of 
gentleness,  of  meekness,  of  truth  1" 


172  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  I  have  not  said  any  untruth,  papa,"  replied  Lily, 
avoiding  the  other  questions,  to  which  her  con- 
science indeed  pleaded  guilty. 

"  Look  back  a  little,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Hope. 
"  Is  it  true  that  no  one  loves  you  ?  that  no  one  cares 
for  your  happiness  ?  Is  it  true  that  Vernon,  that 
Emily  behave  cruelly  to  you  ?  Do  you  really  wish 
the  Dormers  and  Mrs.  Evelyn  had  never  come 
here  %  these  are  things  that  you  have  said,  Lily — 
are  they  true  V 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  papa,"  said  Lily,  now  really 
humbled.  "  I  did  not  mean  it  at  all — at  least  I 
did  mean  it  when  I  was  angry,  but  I  do  not  think 
so  now." 

"  My  dear  child,  when  we  give  way  to  passion, 
and  allow  ourselves  to  harbor  unjust  and  evil 
thoughts  of  others,  we  know  not  where  we  shall 
end,"  replied  Mr.  Hope.  "  Remember,  my  dear, 
it  is  not  only  of  your  family,  and  of  your  com- 
panions, that  you  have  thought  hard  things,  but  of 
your  God.  It  is  His  hand  that  has  laid  this  trial 
of  blindness  on  you,  and  every  inconvenience  or 
deprivation  that  arises  from  it  must  be  traced  to 
the  same  Hand.  You  have  professed  to  be  en- 
deavoring to  accept  this  dispensation,  and  all  its 
belongings,  to  have  oneness  with  God  in  His  wav 


ANGER    AND    ITS    EFFECTS.  173 

of  trying,  and  instructing,  and  correcting  you. 
How  has  it  been  with  you  of  late,  my  child  1  I  fear 
that,  pleased  with  the  improvement  which  there 
certainly  has  been  in  your  conduct,  you  have  rested 
satisfied  wuth  it,  and  having  begun  to  think  yourself  a 
very  good  little  girl,  you  have  ceased  to  be  watchful, 
and  have  trusted  in  your  own  strength.  I  do  not 
ask  for  answers  to  these  questions,  Lily ;  answer 
them  in  your  own  heart,  as  in  the  sight  of  God.  I 
will  leave  you  now,  dear ;  I  hope  you  are  sorry 
for  your  fault,  but  I  must  have  some  tokens  that  it 
is  so,  before  I  can  restore  you  to  your  place  in  the 
family,  or  to  companionship  with  those  whom  you 
have  grieved  and  offended,  by  your  passionate  and 
overbearing  conduct.  Dear  Lilias,  what  will  Ver- 
non, and  Edward,  and  the  others  think  of  religion 
which  seems  to  have  no  power  over  the  heart  and 
conduct  1  '  Where  is  now  thy  God  V  '  Is  He  able 
to  deliver  thee  V  will  be  the  questions  which  irre- 
ligious hearts  will  surely  ask,  when  they  see  the 
profession  of  godliness  overcome  by  passion  and- ill 
temper." 

"O  papa,  papa,"  cried  the  little  girl,  '-I  am  so 
sorry,  I  see  it  all  now.     Don't  go,  papa.     I  cannot 
bear  to  be  left  alone,  and  do  tell  me  what  I  can  do 
15* 


174  BLIND    LILIAS. 

to  make  up  to  Emily  and  Vernon  for  my  naughti- 
ness." 

"You  must  take  counsel  with  Him  who  will  be 
to  yoii  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and 
redemption,  my  child.  He  will  give  you  wisdom 
to  see  your  way,  and,  I  trust,  grace  to  redeem  your 
fault,  as  far  as  it  may  be  possible.  I  can  dictate 
nothing  to  you,  but  we  will  ask  God  to  help  you  ;" 
and,  kneeling  by  her  side,  the  father  commended 
his  erring  child  to  her  heavenly  Guardian  and  Guide, 
and  besought  that  her  sins  might  be  blotted  out 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  that  she  might  have 
strength  and  grace  given  her  to  walk  in  the  straight 
and  the  right  way.  He  then  kissed  his  now  penitent 
child  and  left  her. 


XVIII. 

PEITITBITCB. 

fHE  dressing  bell  had  rung,  and  all  had  gone  to 
their  rooms  to  prepare  for  dinner,  when  Lilias 
rose  from  her  bed,  and  after  endeavoring,  by 
bathing  her  eyes,  and  smoothing  her  ruffled  hair,  to 
make  herself  a  little  more  presentable,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  feel  her  way  to  the  room  where  her  broth- 
ers slept.  Her  timid  knock  was  answered  by  Ver- 
non's opening  the  door.  "  Why,  Lilias,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "is  this  youf  Lily,  with  a  blu^ihing  and 
sorrowful  countenance,  felt  her  way  to  her  brother, 
and  though  half  ashamed  of  her  own  good  resolu- 
tion, threw  her  arms  round  him,  and  said  with 
scarcely  audible  voice,  "  Please  to  forgive  me,  Ver- 
non, I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Well,  wonders  will  never  cease  !"  said  he,  in 
rather  a  provoking  manner,  for  though  an  amiable 
and  kind-hearted  boy,  his  character  was  of  so  differ- 
ent a  tone  from  poor  Lily's,  that  he  could  not  at  all 
enter  into  her  feelings,  and  could  neither  understand 
the  struggle  she  had  endured  to  conquer  herself  sut 


170  liLIND    LILIAS. 

ficieutly  to  come  and  confess  herself  in  the  wrong, 
nor  appreciate  the  conquest  she  had  gained.  "  Why, 
we  shall  have  the  sky  coming  to  kiss  the  earth  next," 
he  said,  "  now  that  proud  Miss  Lily  comes  to  beg 
pardon." 

This  Lilias  could  not  endure,  and  turning  away 
she  burst  into  a  fresh  flood  of  tears,  and  rushed  out 
of  the  room. 

Vernon  was  vexed  with  himself,  and  ran  after  her, 
calling,  "  Lily  ! — come  back,  Lily  ! — I  did  not  mean 
to  vex  you  !'"  But  Lily  was  gone,  and  again  on  her 
bed,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  Vernon 
followed  her  to  her  door,  and  begged  her  to  come 
out  to  him  ;  but  poor  Lilias,  who  was  now  drowned 
in  tears,  and  almost  in  as  great  a  passion  as  ever, 
could  not  speak,  and  Vernon  went  away,  calling  her 
"tiresome  little  thing,"  and  cross  both  with  her  and 
with  himself 

Dinner  went  on  as  usual,  but  although  nothing 
was  said  about  Lilias,  a  cloud  seemed  to  hang  over 
all  the  party,  and  the  meal  was  far  from  a  cheerful 
one.  As  soon,  however,  as  it  was  concluded,  Mr. 
Hope  sought  his  child.  He  had  anticipated,  that  as 
he  had  left  her  so  sorrowful  and  penitent,  she  would 
have  come  to  him,  but  finding  himself  mistaken,  he 
went  again  to  her  room. 


PENITENCE.  177 

He  found  her  in  a  very  different  state  from  what 
he  had  expected.  She  was  still  on  her  bed,  pale, 
worn,  and  sorrowful,  fairly  exhausted  by  the  vio- 
lence of  her  emotions,  but  nurse  was  standing  by 
her  with  her  clean  frock  in  her  hand,  and  the  little 
girl  was  just  rising  in  order  to  be  dressed. 

"  O  papa !  dearest  papa  !"  said  she,  "  I  am  so 
glad  you  are  come.  Leave  me  now  a  little  bit, 
please,  nursie,  and  papa  will  call  you  when  he  goes 
down."  And  nurse  having  left  them,  she  turned 
sorrowfully  to  her  father,  and  said,  "  It  will  not  do, 
papa — I  have  tried  to  be  good,  and  only  been 
naughty  again."  And  then  she  told  her  father  of 
the  effort  she  had  made,  and  of  Vernon's  mode  of 
receiving  her  apologies.  She  did  not  blame  Ver- 
non, but  she  said  that  when  she  heard  him  call  her 
"  proud  Miss  Lily,"  and  speak  so,  all  her  anger  came 
back,  and  "  I  got  into  a  passion  again,  papa,  and 
hated  him — and  I  never  shall  be  good — I  know  I 
never  shall,  papa" — sobbed  the  poor  child. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,'' replied  her  father,  "  I  think 
it  possible  that,  you  have  not  tried  quite  in  the  right 
way.  What  did  you  do,  darling,  before  you  went 
to  Vernon?  I  know  it  must  have  been  a  great 
struggle  to  you,  with  your  naturally  proud  temper, 
to  maki^  that  effort." 


178  BLIND   LILIAS. 

"  Yes,  papa,  it  was  ;  and  I  thought  Vernon  would 
have  valued  it." 

"  And  admired  you  for  it  ?  Yes,  Lily,  I  think  it 
might  have  been  so.  My  love,  did  you  ask  God  to 
give  you  true  humility,  and  a  deep  sense  of  your 
sin,  to  enable  you  to  bear  meekly  all  the  discomforts 
which  might  result  from  it,  before  you  went  to  your 
brother?" 

"  No,  papa." 

"  I  think  that  was  the  mischief.  You  went  more 
with  the  expectation  that  he  would  admire  your 
magnanimity,  than  with  a  true  sense  of  your  fault 
before  your  eyes.  And  then,  when  you  found  that 
Vernon  did  not  appreciate  the  effort  you  had  made, 
you  were  angry.  It  was  but  another  form  of  pride 
that  led  you  to  him,  my  child.  Vernon  was  very 
wrong  to  receive  your  request  for  pardon  in  that 
taunting  manner ;  but  if  you,  dear,  had  been  duly 
impi'essed  with  the  sinfulness  of  your  conduct,  if 
you  had  viewed  it  as  God  views  it,  you  would  not 
have  been  so  easily  repelled.  '  Consider  him  who 
endured  such  contradiction  of  sinners,  lest  ye  be 
wearied  and  faint  in  your  minds."  The  meek  and 
holy  Jesus  was  not  ready  to  take  offence  at  a  word, 
my  child.  If  He  who  had  no  sin  bore  gently  the 
taunts  and  harsh  words  of  those  to  whom  He  had 


PENITENCE.  179 

done  no  ill,  should  net  we  try  to  bear  patiently 
those  which  our  own  sinful  conduct  has  called 
forth  ]" 

Lilias  was  silent.  After  a  time  she  said,  "  I  see 
now,  papa,  that  it  was  as  you  say.  I  did  expect 
that  Vern(jn  would  praise  me  for  being  humble, 
and  I  thought  you  would  all  think  well  of  me 
for  it.  Now  what  can  I  do,  papa  1  I  was  going  to 
be  dressed,  and  come  down  stairs  ;  but  I  do  not 
like  it — I  am  so  ashamed." 

"  I  am  disposed  to  think  all  this  sad  time  of  tears, 
and  passion,  and  sorrow,  has  been  as  much  as  you 
can  bear,  my  love  ;  and  1  therefore  advise  that  you 
go  into  nurse's  room,  and  sit  quietly  with  her,  and 
go  to  bed  early,  and  to-mori'ow  we  shall  see  what 
it  is  then  right  to  do." 

"  But  can  I  do  nothing  to-night  to  make  them 
sec  that  I  am  sorry  ?" 

"  You  may  send  a  message  by  me,  dear." 

"Yes,  papa;  will  you  tell  them  all  that  I  am 
very  sorry,  and  that  I  know  I  was  very  naughty 
and  wicked,  papa?  and  tell  Emily  that  I  did  not 
mean  what  I  said.  No,  papa ;  you  must  not  say 
that  either,  for  I  did  mean  it  then  :  I  think  I  could 
have  killed  her,  and  every  one  of  them.  But  tell 
her  that  it  was  only  naughty,  angry  ft-elings  that 


180  BLIND    LILIAS. 

made  me  say  it,  and  that  I  do  love  her  very  dearly. 
And,  papa,  ask  her  not  to  tell  Mrs.  Evelyn — do, 
please,  papa !     I  should  not  like  her  to  know." 

"  I  believe  it  would  be  better  not  to  ask  it,  dear," 
said  Mr.  Hope.  "  You  have  committed  a  great 
fault,  and  acted  very  sinfully,  and  now  your  only 
com'se  is  to  submit  yourself  humbly  to  all  the  suf- 
fering and  discomforts  which  sin  always  brings  in 
its  train.  Remember,  Lily,  it  is  not  the  opinion 
that  others  may  form  of  us  that  should  be  consid- 
ered :  the  grand  thing  is  to  have  '  a  conscience  void 
of  offence  before  God,  and  before  man.'  It  is  bet- 
ter, my  love,  when  we  have  friends  whose  judgment 
we  value,  and  whom  we  love,  that  they  should 
know  us  as  we  are,  rather  than  as  we  wish  to  seem 
to  be.  Leave  all  these  things  to  be  as  it  may 
please  God,  my  child.  If  your  little  friends  tell 
their  aunt  of  what  has  passed,  it  will  not  deprive 
you  of  her  love,  especially  if  she  also  hear  that 
you  are  penitent,  and  see  hereafter  that  you  are 
more  watchful  and  careful  to  avoid  offence." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  Lilias ;  "  I  see  that,  and  I  will 
ti-y  to  bear  the  punishment  patiently." 

"  And  now  then,  my  love,  I  must  go  down  stairs. 
I  will  give  your  message,  and  your  sisters  will  come 
and  wish  you  good-night.     God  bless  you,  my  dar- 


PENITENCE.  181 

ling,"  he  added,  as,  folding  her  trembling  little  form 
to  his  breast,  he  breathed  a  silent  prayer^for  her. 

"And  God  bless  you,  darling,  best  papa.  I 
hope  I  shall  not  vex  you  so  much  ever  again,"  said 
Lilias,  fondly  embracing  and  kissing  him. 

And  Lily  went  into  what  had  of  old  been  her 
nursery,  and  took  some  tea,  and  sat  still  and  quiet 
on  the  low  chair  which  she  used  to  occupy  when 
she  was  a  little  child.  She  was  sad,  but  so  humble 
and  gentle,  and  so  grateful  to  nurse  for  everything 
she  did,  that  the  good  woman  was  quite  touched. 

Presently  a  child's  quick  footstep  sounded  on  the 
floor,  and  the  color  moiuited  to  Lilias'  cheek,  and 
her  lips  quivered.  It  drew  near  to  the  little  seat 
on  which  the  blind  child  sat,  and  then  two  soft  arms 
were  wound  round  her  neck,  and  a  cool,  fresh  cheek 
was  laid  against  her  pale  and  heated  one,  and  a 
shower  of  loving  kisses  fell  on  her.  '•  Dear  Lily," 
and  "  Dear,  dear  Emily,  I  am  so  very  sorry,"  were 
the  only  words  exchanged  between  the  two  little 
girls ;  and  then  Emily  said,  "'  1  have  Ijrought  up 
my  new  book  to  read  to  you — Mr.  Hope  said  I 
might,  and  that  I  might  stay  all  the  evening  up 
here  with  you,  Lily.  It  is  such  a  lovely  book, 
Lily  ;  shall  I  read  ?  it  is  all  about  children  who 
helped  other  people."  And  drawing  a  stool  close 
IG 


182  BLIND    LILIAS. 

to  Lily,  whose  aching  head  soon  nestled  on  her 
shoulder,  she  began  to  read  from  that  precious  lit- 
tle book,  "  Ministering  Children,"  until  both  little 
girls  became  so  absorbed  in  the  story,  that  all  Lily's 
sorrows  faded  away  ;  and  when  her  sisters  came  to 
fetch  Emily,  and  wish  Lilias  good-night,  they  could 
scarcely  believe  that  such  a  day  of  trouble  had 
really  passed  over  her  head. 

The  plan  proposed  by  Mabel,  and  received  with 
such  warm  acceptance  by  the  whole  of  both  fami- 
lies, had  not  been  allowed  to  sink  into  oblivion. 
Many  and  very  pleasant  were  the  excursions  that 
they  made  together,  and  greatly  did  the  young  peo- 
ple enjoy  the  free  associations  which  they  promoted 
amongst  them,  as  well  as  the  new  and  lovely  scenes 
to  which  they  were  thus  introduced. 

Sometimes  these  excursions  were  on  the  sea,  and 
the  whole  party  crossing  the  Bay  to  some  one  of 
the  little  coves,  of  which  there  are  so  many  along 
that  part  of  the  coast,  landed  and  there  encamped 
for  the  day.  At  others,  they  contented  themselves 
with  shorter  distances,  and  visited  the  nooks  and 
corners,  amidst  their  own  more  immediate  neighbor- 
hood, exploring  every  cavern  and  cliff  on  the  shore, 
and  leaving  the  marks  of  their  gipsy  fires  in  many  a 
picturesque  thicket  and  copse. 


PENITENCE.  188 

A  warm  and  earnest  friendship  had,  indeed, 
sprung  up  between  these  two  families.  Each 
member  of  Mr.  Hope's  had  found  a  friend ;  yet 
they  were  not  coupled  exactly  as  at  first  sight  one 
would  have  expected  to  find  them.  Maud  and 
Meta  ought  legitimately  to  have  been  close  allies, 
yet  they  were  not.  For  some  reason  or  othei", 
they  did  not  seem  to  draw  towards  each  other. 
Again,  Rosalie  and  Mabel  by  age,  as  well  as  mu- 
tual liking  for  the  same  pursuits,  seemed  to  have 
been,  as  is  commonly  said,  "  cut  out  for  each 
other  ;"  but,  as  we  often  find  it  in  life,  some  sort 
of  perversity  seemed  to  prevail  in  this  also. 
Mabel's  whole  heart  was  Meta's ;  Rosalie  she 
liked,  but  in  a  much  less  degree  than  she  did  her 
elder  sister,  and  consequently,  though  all  these  girls 
were  much  together.  Rose  seemed  as  it  were  to 
walk  alone,  belonging  to  each  generally,  and  none 
particularly,  whilst  Meta  and  Mabel,  Maud  and 
Mrs.  Evelyn,  and  Emily  and  Lily  were  united  in 
couples,  and  Blanche,  wlio  was  Vernon's  idol,  and 
the  pet  of  every  one,  flilted  from  one  friend  to 
another,  and  was  welcome  to  all. 

But,  although  Maud  was  much  attached  to  Mrs. 
Evelyn,  it  was  a  diflcrent  sort  of  friendship  which 
existed  between  them  from  that  which  luiiled  the 


184  BLIND    LILIAS. 

younger  couples.  Mabel's  intense  enthusiasm 
made  her  restless,  if  not  continually  in  association 
with  Meta.  It  was,  as  she  had  herself  styled  it,  a 
'•  falling  in  love,"  her  ardor  for  Meta  was  a  pas- 
sion ;  and  although  her  love  was  well  bestowed, 
yet,  being  excessive,  it  was  injurious  to  herself 
and  those  round  her.  Emily's  love  for  Lily  was 
less  vehement,  but  it  burned  a  strong  steady  flame, 
and  very  seldom  was  it  that  a  thought  injurious  to 
her  little  friend  arose  in  her  heart.  She  looked 
up  to  Lily,  who  was  indeed  a  remarkable  child, 
with  a  sort  of  reverence,  as  if  she  stood  altogether 
on  different  ground  from  herself;  whilst  Lilias, 
although  distinctly  taking  the  lead  in  the  friendship, 
was  so  well  aware  that  Emily  was  more  amiable  in 
temper  than  herself,  and  highly  to  be  prized  for  the 
truthfulness  and  integrity  of  her  character,  and  for 
her  remarkable  freedom  from  selfishness,  that  she 
held  her  little  companion  in  more  respect  than 
Emily  could  exactly  understand. 


XIX. 

MAUDES  VICTORY. 

Q^'i^^Y^UD,  my  child,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  one  even- 
ing when  he  was  alone  with  her,  "  there  is 
something  wrong  with  you  ;  what  is  it, 
dearest  ?  You  will  confide  in  your  own  father. 
Tell  me,  love,  why  do  I  sec  you  so  much  alone,  and 
so  often  sad  f 

Maud  started,  and  blushed.  She  had  not  been 
aware  that  she  had  seemed  sad  ;  that  she  had  been 
so  she  well  knew ;  but  there  was  a  whisper  in  her 
heart,  that  the  cause  of  that  sadness  was  not  quite 
what  she  would  like  to  own,  and  she  would  rather 
not  have  been  called  on  to  probe  and  analyze  her 
feelings,  or  to  speak  of  them.  She  therefore  re- 
plied, half  evasively, 

"  I  did  not  know  I  had  seemed  sad,  papa." 

'•  Tell  me,  Maud,  why  you  are  not  walking  with 
your  sister  and  the  Dormer  party.  I  heard  them 
begging  you  to  come  with  them.  Why  did  you 
refuse  to  do  so,  dear  1"  asked  j\Ir.  Hope. 

"I  like  better  to  stay  at  home,  papa,"   replied 
16* 


186  BLIND    LILIA8. 

Maud.  "It  is  more  pleasant  to  me  to  be  with  you, 
or  in  the  garden,  now." 

"  Why  now,  dear  '?"  replied  her  flither.  "  You 
used  not  to  feel  so.  No  one  used  to  enjoy  a  ram- 
ble on  the  hills  or  on  the  beach  more  than  my 
Maud  ;  but  now  you  seldom  join  your  sisters  and 
our  young  friends.  My  dear  girl,  you  must  not 
think  that  I  do  not  perceive  the  cause  of  all  this 
self-seclusion.  There  is  a  wrong  spirit  working  in 
you  ;  shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think,  dear  ?  or  do  you 
yourself  pei'ceive  and  acknowledge  it,  and  so  save 
me  the  necessity?" 

Maud  answered  not — she  was  too  single-minded 
and  true  to  utter  a  word  that  might  imply  anything 
different  from  what  she  really  felt,  yet  she  was 
scarcely  prepared  either  to  justify  or  to  condemn 
the  workings  of  her  heart,  if  indeed  she  knew  ex- 
actly what  they  were,  and  whither  they  tended. 

"Dear  Maud,"  said  her  father,  "  it  grieves  me  to 
see,  as  I  plainly  do,  that  you  are  allowing  yourself 
to  brood  over  a  secret,  and,  in  a  great  measure  an 
imaginary  grievance.  Your  sister  is  wrong  to  per- 
mit herself  to  be  so  much,  so  over-occupied  with  any 
one  object,  as  she  is  with  Meta  Dormer ;  but  you 
know,  dearest,  it  is  a  part  of  her  character  to  be 
thus  easilv   excited  to  affection.     We  have  often 


maud's  victory.  187 

spoken  of  it  "together  as  a  trait  which  gave  us  fear 
for  her  happiness,  and  one  which  must  be  carefully 
Avatchcd  over,  and  we  liave  both  done  all  wc  could 
to  correct  this  disposition  to  undue  devotion  to  any 
one  object,  however  admirable  that  object  may  be 
in  itself.  I  fully  admit  that  Mabel  is  now  devoting 
her  energies  and  affections  a  great  deal  too  much  to 
Meta,  and  that  to  the  neglect  of  other  duties.  But, 
my  dear  child,  do  you  really  think  that  Mabel  loves 
any  of  us  less  than  she  did  1  Do  you  feel  the  least 
doubt  that,  although  she  has  not  enough  self-com- 
mand to  break  through  the  excess  of  which  your 
heart  (though  not  your  lip)  complains,  the  cool 
alienation  of  manner  with  which  you  treat  her  is 
exquisitely  painful  to  her  1  Are  you  acting  well, 
Maud,  in  thus  encouraging  in  yourself  these  jealous 
and  dividing  feelings  ! ' 

"  Jealous,  papa !"  said  Maud.  "  Surely  what  I 
feel  is  not  jealousy  ;  it  is  very  natural  that  I  should 
feel  sorrowful,  and  mourn  over  having  lost  Mabel's 
love  so  entirely,  and  being  now  nothing  to  her,  and 
comparative  strangers  everything." 

"  True,  dear,  if  it  were  so  it  would  be  reasonable 
that  you  should  feel  sad  and  sorry  ;  but,  Maud,  if 
you  had  lost  the  set  of  pearls  that  your  beloved 
mother  bequeathed  you,  what  should  you  do  ?" 


188  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  Try  to  find  them  again,  papa ;  and  you  mean 
that  I  have  not  tried  to  regain  my  place  in  Mabel's 
affections  ?" 

"  Just  so,  dear.  But  if  you  missed  your  pearls 
I  think,  before  you  pronounced  that  they  were  lost, 
you  would  make  quite  sure  that  they  were  not 
merely  mislaid — covered  up  for  the  time,  and  out 
of  sight,  but  as  safe  and  as  surely  yours  as  if  they 
hung  round  your  neck,  or  were  wreathed  into  your 
hair.  Now,  dear  child,  be  satisfied  to  take  my  word 
that  you  are  wrong  altogether  in  this  fear.  Dear 
Mabel  is  impetuous,  volatile,  over  ardent,  and  she 
has  not,  alas !  as  yet  that  only  one  thing  that  has 
power  to  give  and  preserve  a  right  balance,  an  obe- 
dient subjection  to  God's  guiding  and  instructing 
Spirit.  May  our  good  God  give  it  to  her,  lest  she 
run  after  her  idols  too  fast  and  too  long.  But  you, 
Maud,  who,  I  trust,  are  under  the  rule  of  that  Spirit, 
should  you  not  bear  with  this  almost  only  fault  of 
our  dear  one  ?  Bear  with  her,  dear,  not  to  encour- 
age the  evil,  but  to  lead  her  from  it." 

But  what  can  I  do,  i^apa  ?  If  Mabel  is  with 
Margaret  Dormer,  she  is  happy  ;  if  she  is  absent, 
she  is  always  longing  for  the  time  when  they  shall 
be  together.  She  does  not  like  to  talk  of  anything 
else,  nor  to  do  anything  in  which  Meta  has  not  an 


maud's  victory.  189 

interest,  and  so,  when  we  are  together,  as  I  do  not 
of  course  care  to  be  always  talking  and  thinking  of 
one  for  whom  I  have  no  particular  liking,  Mabel 
gets  tired  of  me,  and  then  I  am  very  unhappy," 
said  Maud,  the  tears  which  she  had  long  been  re- 
straining, beginning  to  flow  down  her  cheeks. 

"  It  is  wrong,  dear.  I  am  very  sorry  for  all  this, 
and  it  pains  me  sadly  to  see  my  two  girls,  who 
have  heretofore  been  but  as  one,  thus  separated," 
replied  Mr.  Hope. 

"  I  wish  the  Dormers  had  never  come,"  said 
Maud,  earnestly. 

"  Nay,  there  you  are  wrong  again,  Maud.  The 
providence  of  God  brought  them  here,  and  led  to 
our  acquaintance,  and  it  is  quite  wrong,  because 
painful  events  ensue  from  any  cause,  to  say  that  you 
wish  it  had  not  happened.  It  is  no  fault  of  the 
Dormers ;  they  behaved  very  properly,  and  I  con- 
sider them  a  great  acquisition  to  you  all.  Yes,  all, 
dear,"  he  added,  seeing  that  she  was  about  to  reject 
the  idea  as  concerned  herself.  "  Opportunity  is 
showing  you  all  what  is  in  you,  and  but  for  the 
Dormers,  opportunity  would  not  have  presented 
itself  The  faults  of  which  we  complain  in  May 
were  in  her,  but  lacked  opportunity  to  betray  them- 
selves ;  and  my  Maud  must  look  ai  homo,  and  see 


190  BLIND    LILIAS. 

for  herself,  whether  this  same  opportunity  has  not 
been  the  means  of  manifesting  in  her  any  evil  that 
before  lay  dormant. 

"  Let  me  ask  you  one  or  two  questions,  Maud  ; 
you  need  not  answer  them  to  me  unless  you  like  to 
do  so,  but  be  fair  with  yourself  Have  you  been 
as  kind  and  pleasant,  in  your  manner  and  conduct 
to  your  sister,  as  you  used  to  be?  have  you  not 
rather  repelled  her,  and  refused  to  be  anything  to 
her  if  you  would  not  be  all  f 

."  Perhaps  a  little,  papa,"  replied  Maud,  with  her 
accustomed  candor.  "  I  have  felt  being  superseded  so 
much,  that  I  did  not  wish  to  seem  to  court  Mabel." 

"  Wrong  again,  my  dearest ;  never  court  great 
people,  never  court  for  gifts  and  riches,  but  court 
your  sister's  love  day  and  night,  till  you  win  it. 
Lay  siege  to  her  heart,  storm  it,  take  it  by  strata- 
gem, anything  to  gain  and  hold  that  precious  thing, 
a  sister's  love.  And  again,  court  the  sinner  to  win 
him  from  his  sin,  and  if  you  see  sin,  or  even  fault  in 
your  sister,  let  her  not  rest  until  you  have  won  her 
from  it  at  any  price.  Yea,  even  at  the  price  of  that 
most  treasured  thing,  so  hard  to  part  with,  your 
pride." 

"  O  papa,"  said  Maud,  almost  reproachfully ; 
"  jealousy  and  pride,  these  are  strong  words." 


MAUD  S    VICTORY.  191 

"  Tell  me  to-morrow,  dear  Maudie,  when  you 
have  looked  well  into  your  own  heart,  with  prayer 
that  God  would  light  it  up,  so  that  you  may  truly 
discern  the  nature  of  that  which  is  within,  that  these 
two  demons,  pride  and  jealousy,  have  not  had  any- 
thing to  say  in  the  matter,  and  I  will  retract  my 
words  at  once.  But  remember,  my  girl,  that  you, 
as  May's  eldest  sister,  and  as  one  who  has  ever  had 
and  exercised  the  deepest  and  truest  influence  over 
her,  will  be  called  on  to  make  answer  before  God 
for  the  use  you  make  of  that  influence ;  and  if  yo^i 
lay  it  up  in  a  napkin,  and  refuse  to  'put  it  out  to 
usury,'  you  will  reap  the  fruit  of  such  neglect  here- 
after, either  in  this  world,  or  in  the  next.  Remem- 
ber, also,  that  your  father's  heart  is  wounded  by 
this  division,  and,  O  Maud,  let  it  speedily  be  healed  ! 
Talk  to  your  sister,  dear,  and  let  her  talk  to  you  of 
her  new  friends,  let  her  feel  as  she  has  ever  before 
felt,  that  Maud  and  Mabel  are  one ;  love  Margaret 
Dormer  because  Mabel  loves  her,  and  Mabel  will 
come  back  to  you,  and  feel,  if  she  does  not  say  so, 
that  her  old  and  well-tried  friend  is  of  more  real 
worth  than  any  new  one  to  her,  and  she  will  love 
you  better  than  she  did  before.  Do  not  let  your 
sister's  confidence  and  love  become  the  property  of 
another,  as  it  surely  will,  if  you  chill  it  and  reject 


192  BLIND    LILIAS. 

it  as  you  have  done  of  late.  Walk  with  your  sister 
and  her  new  friend,  study  to  unite  yourself  with 
them,  and  to  thi-ow  yourself  into  their  interests,  and 
you  will  gain  a  true  friend  in  Meta,  as  well  as  recall 
the  fluttering  affections  of  Mabel,  and  fix  them  more 
strongly  than  ever,  by  showing  her  that  Maud's 
love  and  Maud's  principles  are  not  to  be  shaken  by 
a  breath." 

Maud  tui-ned  towards  her  father,  bent  her  tearful 
face  over  him,  and  tenderly  kissing  him,  whispered, 
"I  will  trxj  ;  pray  for  me,  papa,"  and  left  the  room. 

From  this  day  forward,  a  new  era  commenced. 
Deep  and  solemn  were  Maud's  thoughts  that  even- 
ing, whilst,  alone  in  her  room,  she  endeavored  to 
search  out  her  heart,  and  see  how  it  had  been  ^\•ith 
her.  She  knelt  and  prayed  for  God's  guidance,  and 
then  turning  over  the  leaves  of  her  Bible,  to  see 
what  was  the  teaching  of  God's  word,  she  opened 
at  the  beautiful  133d  Psalm,  "  Behold  how  good 
and  how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together 
in  unity  !"  and  the  sweet  images  of  the  holy  anoint- 
ing oil  covering  and  sanctifying  the  whole  person, 
of  the  tender  and  genial  dew  descending  from 
above,  and  distilling  from  height  to  height,  fertilizing 
all,  and  beautifying  and  gladdening  hill  and  valley, 
came  home  to  her  heart.     She  felt  how  little   she 


maud's  victory.  193 

had  promoted  this  sweet  unity  of  late,  and  well,  yet 
sorrowfully,  she  pondered  over  her  own  great  fail- 
ure in  Christian  love  and  forbearance. 

"  God  helping  me,  I  will  do  better  for  the  time 
to  come,"  said  she,  as,  rising  from  her  seat,  she 
again  knelt  by  her  bedside  and  asked  for  the 
strength  which  she  well  knew  she  must  receive 
abundantly  before  she  could,  in  defiance  of  an  un- 
usually proud  nature,  be  able  to  carry  out  her  inten- 
tions ;  and  then  rising,  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and 
shawl,  and  set  out  on  the  path  across  the  grounds 
which  she  thought  the  returning  party  would  take, 
resolved  at  once  to  begin  her  strife  with  self,  and 
to  court  and  win  the  return  of  the  love  she  so  dear- 
ly prized. 

"Maud,"  said  Mabel,  as  the  party  suddenly 
turned  a  corner  and  encountered  her,  "  where  are 
you  going  ?" 

"I  was  coming  to  meet  you^  dear,"  she  said, 
affectionately,  "  I  thought  I  should  find  you  in  this 
path.  Whei-e  have  you  been?"  and  pleasantly 
entering  into  talk,  she  asked  Meta  to  give  her  some 
wild  honeysuckles  she  had  in  her  hand,  and  wreath- 
ing them  around  Mabel's  hat  as  she  was  wont  in 
ulil  times  to  do,  she  seemed  to  have  suddenly  lost 
17 


104  BLIND    LILIAS. 

sight  of  the  troubled  feelings  that  had  so  long  per- 
plexed hei',  and  to  be  herself  again. 

We  may  easily  imagine  the  satisfaction  it  was  to 
Mr,  Hope  to  see  his  three  girls  together  approach- 
ing him  with  their  young  companions,  as  he  came 
from  the  terrace  to  meet  them.  Nothing  was  said ; 
but  he  took  Maud  on  one  arm  and  Meta  on  the 
other,  and  led  the  way  into  the  house  with  a  thank- 
ful heart. 

A  deeper  earnestness  in  the  "  God  bless  you,  my 
chi'  ],"  and  the  kiss  he  impressed  on  her  forehead 
in  return  for  her  earnest  embrace,  when  they 
separated  for  the  night,  was  all  that  was  observable 
in  Mr.  Hope's  manner  towards  Maud  :  nor  did  any- 
thing further  pass  in  words ;  but  from  that  day  for- 
ward Maud  and  Mabel  were,  as  they  had  ever  been 
to  each  other,  the  most  loving  of  sisters,  and  Meta 
became,  as  she  deserved  to  be,  the  friend  and  com- 
panion of  the  elder  as  much  as  of  the  younger. 


XX. 

HBxtLTHFUL    PLEASURES. 

^Si  DAY  towards  the  middle  of  August,  it  being 
^VV  Meta's  birthday,  had  been  fixed  on  for  one  of 
special  enjoyment.  It  was  to  be  a  whole  day 
of  pleasure,  and  all  were  to  meet  at  the  Grange  at 
nine  o'clock  before  starting ;  and  arrangements 
were  made  in  rather  grander  style  than  usual  in 
honor  of  this  birthday. 

The  morning  fixed  on  was  most  lovely,  and  gave 
promise  of  a  perfect  day.  The  air  was  so  clear 
that  every  object  seemed  to  beam  forth  with  a 
depth  and  beauty  of  coloring  such  as  is  rarely  seen. 
The  sea,  reflecting  the  blue  sky,  was  like  a  lake  of 
lapis  lazuli,  and  the  glittering  little  boats  which  a 
light  breeze  wafted  blithely  over  its  scarcely  rufiled 
surface  looked  as  bright  as  the  golden  flecks  which 
adorn  that  beautiful  substance. 

Mr.  Hope  had  a  nice  boat,  and  it  was  now  lying 
on  the  little  white  beach  below  his  house.  It  was 
in  fact  the  property  of  Nugent  and  Everard,  and 
formed  their  special  amusement  when  they  were  nt 


196  BLIND    LILIAS. 

home,  for  both  were  excellent  oarsmen,  and  de- 
lighted in  aquatic  excursions,  especially  when  their 
father  and  sisters  had  a  share  in  them.  In  their 
absence,  the  charge  of  it  was  entrusted  to  a  respect- 
able old  sailor  in  the  village,  who  now  stood  ready, 
with  the  aid  of  his  stalwart  young  son,  to  row  such 
of  the  party  .as  liked  to  go  by  water,  or  as  there 
was  a  nice  breeze  they  could  put  up  a  sail,  whilst 
the  rest,  with  some  servants  and  the  provisions, 
were  to  travel  by  an  inland  route,  and  meet  the 
boat  party  on  the  scene  of  action.  There  had  been 
much  discussion  as  to  where  this  "  scene  of  action  " 
should  be ;  one  had  proposed  Wastcombe,  another 
Petit  Tor,  and  a  third  had  most  urgently  pressed 
that  they  should  go  and  dine  with  the  hermit  goat 
on  the  Thatcher — that  fine,  shaggy  rock  which,  to- 
gether with  its  compeers,  lying  a  mile  or  two  off 
Hope's  Nose,  forms  so  beautiful  an  object  from  all 
parts  of  the  neighborhood.  But  it  was  Meta's 
party,  and  she  had  been  persuaded  by  Maud  and 
Mabel  (who  seemed  to  have  some  private  but 
weighty  reason  for  desiring  that  it  might  be  so)  to 
decide  in  favor  of  Berry  Head,  which  is  the  oppo- 
site headland  to  Hope's  Nose,  and  forms  the  south- 
ern point  of  Torbay.  Thus  it  was  settled,  all  hav- 
ing come  to  the  unanimous  opinion  that  no  place 


"  A3  there  was  a  nice  breeze  they  could  put  up  a  sail. 
Blind  Miiaa. 


HEALTHFUL  PLEASURES.  197 

could  offer  to  them  greater  enjoyment  than  that  of 
spending  a  whole  day  amidst  the  beautiful  and 
varied  scenery  that  extends  along  that  part  of  the 
shore  between  Brixham  and  the  blufi'  headland 
which  abruptly  ends  the  coast  in  a  sheer  and  pre- 
cipitous cliff  of  immense  height. 

Blanche,  Vernon,  and  Edward  were  all  far  too 
vivacious  to  like  the  idea  of  keeping  still  in  the 
boat.  If  they  went  in  the  Coburg  they  could  jump 
in  and  out  and  scramble  about ;  and  as  Neptune 
and  Fata  were  to  go  too,  they  all  agreed  that  a 
scamper  over  the  hills  with  them  would  be  by  far 
the  best  fun ;  and  Mrs.  Evelyn  also  preferred  going 
by  land,  and  Maud  and  Rose  went  with  her  to  assist 
in  watching  over  her  merry  young  companions  :  so, 
with  a  pair  of  stout  horses  to  draw  them,  the  party 
were  packed  into  the  carriage  and  set  out  in  high 
spirits. 

Mr.  Hope,  Meta,  Mabel,  Lilias,  and  her  insepar- 
able friend  Emily,  went  in  the  boat. 

And  now,  which  shall  we  follow — the  boat,  as  it 
danced  lightly  over  the  waters,  or  the  carriage,  as 
it  rumbled  not  so  lightly  thi-ough  the  stony  Devon- 
shire lanes  and  hilly  roads  through  which  its  course 
lay,  until  at  last  the  whole  party  thought  it  better 
to  get  out,  and  walk  in  happy  scattered  groups, 
17* 


198  BLIND    LILIAS. 

making  h'll  and  vale,  and  wood  and  coppice,  re- 
sound with  their  merriment  ?  Perhaps  it  will  be 
better  for  us  not  to  attempt  to  follow  either  party, 
for  to  recount  all  the  avdentures  which  befell  either 
the  one  or  the  other  would  be  more  than  we  could 
venture  to  undertake.  We  should  have  to  tell  how 
Fata  started  a  covey  of  patridges,  which  went  up 
before  her  nose  with  such  a  startling  whirr,  that  the 
poor  little  silly  thing  went  away  howling  with 
fright ;  and  that  Neptune  plunged  into  a  little  over 
shadowed  wayside  pond,  and  then  shook  his  drip- 
ping locks  over  little  Blanche,  without  the  least  con- 
sideration for  her  clean  morning  frock. 

Then  there  were  flowers  collected  by  Rose  for 
Mabel,  and  there  were  brilliant  insects,  which  Ver- 
non and  Edward  chased  vehemently  for  a  moment, 
and  then  left  to  flit  onwards  uninjured  on  their  joy- 
ful course.  All  this,  and  more,  we  should  have  to 
tell  of  the  adventures  of  the  land-party.  On  the 
other  hand,  were  we  to  attempt  to  describe  the 
musical  splash  of  the  waters  on  the  side  of  the 
boat;  the  measured  flapping  of  the  Vsitle  sail,  which 
had  been  hoisted  as  they  crossed  the  bay  ;  the  bril- 
liant clearness  and  calm  repose  of  the  deep  blue 
waters  which  lay  below  and  round  the  little  boat, 
and  the  party  therein ;  together  with  the  grandeur 


HEALTHFUL  PLEASURES.  199 

of  the  rocks  which  rose  in  beetling  crags  far,  far 
above  them,  and  ,here  and  there  cast  such  deep 
shadows  as  to  make  the  waters  aj^pear  as  of  inky- 
blackness  ; — were  we  to  tell  of  all  this,  we  fear  our 
readers  w'ould  be  tired  of  us  and  of  our  story. 

We  will,  therefore,  pass  it  all  over,  and  landing 
our  party  at  once  on  the  pretty  beach  which  lies 
nearest  Berry  Head,  conduct  them  a  little  way  up 
the  hill-side,  and  seat  them  near  the  mouth  of  a 
deep  cavern,  which  opens  towards  the  sea,  and  here, 
on  a  carpet  of  soft  turf,  sheltered  from  the  heat  of 
the  sun  by  the  overhanging  rocks,  we  will  leave 
them  to  await  ihe  arrival  of  the  rest  of  the  party. 

Tlie  plan  for  the  day  was  for  all  to  keep  quite  at 
rest  in  some  shaded  spot  until  after  they  had  dined  ; 
then  those  who  were  the  strongest  were  to  ascend 
the  headland,  inspect  the  remains  of  the  Fort,  which 
in  war-time  guards  the  entrance  of  the  bay,  and 
endeavor  to  get  some  specimens  of  the  Goldilocks 
[Chrysocoma  Linosyris),  which,  according  to  botan- 
ical books,  is  found  only  on  that  spot,  yet,  in  fact 
(although  exceedingly  rare),  it  has  been  discovered 
in  some  other  localities.  Those  who  were  not  dis- 
posed for  so  much  climbing  were  to  amuse  them- 
selves amongst  the  rocks  and  thickets  lower  down, 
and  all  were   to   i-eunite   for   tea   on   intermediate 


200  iil.IND    LIIJA8, 

ground  nl  about  six  o'clock.  Dui'ing  their  quiet 
time  the  phiuls  collected  by  the  land-party  were  to 
be  examined  and  arranged ;  and  Maud,  who  cared 
not  for  plants,  at  least  not  for  those  which  had  not 
color  and  fragrance  to  attract  her,  was  to  make  a 
sketch.  The  boys  had  brought  shrimping-nets,  and 
the  little  girls  were  to  amuse  themselves  as  they 
chose. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  land-party  came  up, 
and  joined  company  with  the  rest,  and  soon  the  tin- 
case  of  treasures  was  in  high  request. 

Margaret  was  an  accomplished  botanist,  but  her 
experience  had  been  gained  chiefly  in  other  lands, 
and  the  wild-flowers  of  England  were  many  of  them 
quite  new  to  her,  and  consequently  full  of  interest. 
"  Oh,  how  lovely  !  What  is  this  ?"  said  she,  as 
Mrs.  Evelyn  drew  from  her  case  a  beautiful  speci- 
men of  a  bog-moss.  "  It  is  a  moss,  I  see,  but  I 
never  saw  one  of  this  kind.  Look  at  those  dark 
brown  capsules — how  pretty  and  urn-like  they  are, 
and  how  soft  and  silky  the  texture  of  those  white 
tufted  leaves  !" 

"It  is  a  Sphagnum  of  some  kind,"  replied  Mrs. 
Evelyn. 

"  Ah  !  you  have  met  with  a  bog,"  said  Mr.  Hope. 
"  Oh,  now,  Mr.  Hope,"  said  little  Blanche,  laugh- 


HEALTHFUL    PLEASURES,  201 

ing,  "  you  have  had  a  peep  at  my  foot  and  ray 
muddy  frock,  and  so  you  guessed.  I  stepped  on 
the  most  loveliest  green  mossy  place,  and  thought 
T  was  going  to  pick  such  a  beauty -flower,  and  plump 
went  I  in  up  to  my  uncle  in  the  black  mud,  and  the 
cold,  cold  water  made  me  so  ;"  and  putting  out  her 
pretty  little  foot,  she  exhibited  it  in  such  a  state  of 
disfigurement  as  a  bog  alone  could  have  made  it. 

"Not  up  to  your  uncle,  Blanche,"  said  Lily, 
laughing,  for  she  always  greatly  enjoyed  Blanche's 
mistakes.     "  I  do  not  think  your  uncle  was  in  that 

bog." 

"What  do  you  call  it  then  ? — what  is  it  in  En- 
glish ?"  said  Blanche.  "The  knuckle  of  my  foot  I 
mean." 

"  Oh,  your  ancle  P'  replied  Emily  ;  "  but  really  it 
is  almost  your  knee,  Blanchie — your  whole  leg  is 
cased  with  that  black  mud." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  replied  Blanche,  "  up  to  my 
Enhel,  and  that's  German  for  grandchild ;  so  it  was 
not  up  to  my  uncle,  but  up  to  my  grandson  that  my 
foot  went."  And  the  merry  child  laughed  heartily 
at  her  own  joke,  a  laugh  in  which  all  the  other  chil- 
dren readily  joined. 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Evelyn,  '•  little  girls  should  not 
be  quite  so  self-confident  and  ass;urcd  that  they  can 


202  BLIND    LILIAS. 

take  care  of  themselves.  When  I  was  warning  a 
certain  little  lady  to  be  careful  how  she  walked,  and 
bid  her  follow  me,  she  would  not  be  guided,  and  now 
see  the  results.  The  only  way  to  get  through  a  bog 
dry-footed  is  to  plant  your  steps  on  tufts  of  heath, 
or  rushes,  or  on  spots  where  the  roots  of  grass  or 
some  other  plants  have  fixed,  and  made  firm  hard 
places  that  w^ill  bear  your  weight.  By  stepping  from 
one  to  another  of  these,  you  may  get  along  very 
well ;  but  those  soft,  tempting,  mossy  places,  beau- 
tiful as  they  look,  are  not  trustworthy.  They  are 
suro  to  give  way  beneath  your  foot,  and  plunge  you 
deep  in  the  mire." 

"  A  tolerably  fliir  illustration  of  life  may  be  ob- 
tained from  a  bog,"  said  Mr.  Hope.  "  Those  bright 
green  and  red  mosses  are  lovely  to  look  at,  but 
they,  like  many  a  gay  thing  in  life,  '  allure  but  to 
destroy ;'  whilst  the  rugged  and  unsightly  tufts  of 
old  roots,  which  afford  such  good  footing,  may  rep- 
resent some  duties  which,  although  they  look  unat- 
tractive enough  in  the  distance,  so  as  almost  to  make 
us  shrink  from  undertaking  them,  yet  when  once 
fairly  entered  on  in  an  earnest  spirit,  present  one 
with  a  safe  and  not  unpleasant  path." 

"  But  here  is  an  old  friend,  also  from  the  bog," 
said  Mrs.    Evelyn.     "  The   asphodel   {Nartheciv.m 


HEALTHFUL  PLEASURES.  203 

ossifrac/um),  with  its  spear-shaped  leaves,  and  spikes 
of  golden  bloom — that  classic  flower  which  the  an- 
cients considered  as  an  emblem  of  immortality,  and 
as  such  planted  it  near  the  resting-places  of  the 
dead.     Pope  says, — 

'  By  those  happy  souls  which  dwell 
In  yellow  meads  of  asphodel.'  " 

"  By  the  by,  that  idea  is  rather  an  odd  one,"  re- 
marked Mr.  PIopc.  ''  He  forgets  what  an  uncom- 
fortable locality  it  must  be  for  Ifis  heroes  to  dwell 
in  ;  for  as  the  plant  grows  only  in  black,  boggy 
ground,  they  stand  a  good  chance  of  looking  some- 
what like  Miss  Blanchadine  the  fair  1" 

"  Oh,  here  is  the  sun -dew  !"  said  Rose. 

"  Yes  ;  both  sorts — the  long-leaved  and  the  round 
leaved,"  replied  Meta.  "Look  at  the  glittering 
drops  of  dew  which  hang  on  the  tiny  hairs,  one  on 
each,  like  fairy  diamonds.  I  wish  we  had  a  micro- 
scope." 

"  That  wish  is  soon  gratified,"  said  Mr.  Hope, 
drawing  from  his  pocket  a  little  portable  instrument. 
"I  seldom  stir  from  home  without  my  little  friend, 
and  much  enjoyment  have  I  derived  from  it.'' 

"  How  beautifully  the  globules  of  dew  are 
formed  !"  said  Rosalie,  wlio,  after  having  looked 


204  BLIND    LILIAS. 

at  it,  passed  it  and  the  microscope  on  to  her  sis- 
ter. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Meta,  observing  it  with  deep 
interest ;  "  each  tiny  hair  is  tipped  with  its  own 
little  crystal  sphere,  and  each  little  orb  reflects  the 
hues  of  the  sky,  and  the  trees,  and  everything 
around  it.     What  wonderful  things  !" 

"  Yes ;  glorious  are  thy  works,  O  Lord  God," 
said  Mr.  Hope  ;  "  yet  we  do  not  see  a  thousandth 
part  of  them :  the  wonders  of  creation  are  too 
many  and  too  great  for  finite  man  to  perceive  or 
recount.  We  may  get  a  lesson  from  this  little 
plant ;  as  it  reflects  the  glorious  light  of  the  sun  in 
its  minute  globules  of  dew,  so  should  Christians  be 
filled  with  the  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
and  reflect  every  surrounding  object  only  in  the 
light  and  colors  which  that  Sun  supplies." 

"  But  it  is  not  wrong,  papa,  to  long  to  know  all 
about  them,  and  try  to  find  out  all  we  caii  P  said 
little  Lilias. 

"  By  no  means,  my  child — 

'  Desire  that  tends  to  know 
The  works  of  God,  thereby  to  glorify 
The  great  Work-master,  leads  to  no  excess 
That  reaches  blame,  but  I'ather  merits  praise.' 

So  says  our  own  great  poet,  and  truly  I  agree  with 


HEALTHFUL  PLEASURES.  205 

him  ;  for  though  we  cannot  '  search  out  His  works 
unto  perfection,'  yet  surely  there  is  no  subject  that 
it  is  more  desirable  for  man  to  study  than  the 
works  of  his  Maker.  But  now  I  think  we  must 
leave  off  botanizing,  or  we  shall  have  no  time  for 
our  book." 

"  Oh,  this  one  more,  Mr.  Hope !"  pleaded  Emily, 
who,  with  her  hand  locked  in  Lilias's,  had  been  in- 
tently listening ;  "  this  little  pink  beauty,  with 
leaves  like  a  tiny,  tifiT/  acacia  leaf.  It  was  creeping 
in  and  out  between  the  long,  pale  moss,  like  a  car- 
pet for  the  fairies." 

"  Ah !  that  is  the  bog  pimpernel  [Anagallis 
ienella),'''  said  Rose  ;  "'  how  pretty  it  is  !" 

"  My  own  little  precious  favorite  flower,"  said 
Lily.  "  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  see  it  growing  !" 
and  a  cloud  of  sadness  overcast  her  features.  But 
speedily  recovering  herself,  she  added,  "  Never 
mind,  papa ;  I  did  not  mean  to  say  that."  And 
jiulling  her  father's  head  very  close  to  her — for,  as 
usual,  she  was  his  next  neighbor — she  whispered  a 
t\'\\  words  in  his  ear,  and  then  said  aloud,  "  You 
remember,  papa?" 

■'  Perfectly,  my  darling.  May  He  help  you  to 
attain  it  fully,"  was  Mr.  Hope's  half-whispered 
18 


200  BLIND    LILIAS. 

reply,  as  he  tenderly  kissed  her  uplifted  but  blush- 
ing cheek. 

The  words  Lily  had  whispered  were  "  Fellowship 
with  God,  papa.  I  must  try  for  that.''"'  And  truly 
did  the  sweet  child  strive  after  it.  This  one  thought 
before  her  mind  seemed  usually  to  be  enough  to 
support  and  cheer  her  under  her  great  trial,  and  to 
have  a  compelling  power  over  her.  It  was  seldom 
now  that  Lily  gave  way  to  her  petulant  and  proud 
temper ;  every  one  noticed  how  careful  she  was  to 
check  herself  when  she  was  disposed  to  answer 
hastily,  often  suddenly  stopping  when  a  few  words 
had  escaped  her,  and  then  after  a  few  moments  say- 
ing, "  Well,  never  mind  !"  or,  "  I  did  not  mean  to 
say  that." 

Nor  had  she  once,  since  the  day  the  events  of 
which  we  have  recorded,  given  way  to  violence  and 
passion.  It  was  evident  to  all  that  a  great  change 
had  passed  on  her,  although  she  had  yet  much,  very 
much,  to  conquer  and  contend  with. 

Joyful  as  was  Mr.  Hope  to  see  that  the  disci- 
pline with  which  it  had  pleased  God  to  school  his 
beloved  little  one,  was  thus  working  in  her  "  the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness,"  it  was  at  times 
almost  too  exciting  and  touching  to  his  sensitive  feel- 
ings, to  watch  the  struggles  which  his  little  blind 


HEALTHFUL  PLEASUKE8.  207 

child  liad  to  maintain  against  her  naturally  proud 
spirit,  and  also  with  the  repining  feelings  which  ne- 
cessarily arose  occasionally,  when  the  loss  which 
she  had  experienced  presented  itself  more  forcibly 
than  usual  to  her  mind.  It  was  painful  to  him  also 
to  see  the  look  of  sadness  which,  from  time  to 
time,  rested  on  her  countenance — to  hear  the  low 
sigh  which  perhaps  none  other  heard,  yet  feel  that 
it  was  better  not  to  notice  either,  and  let  her  fight 
the  good  fight  so  far  alone,  only  aiding  her  at  such 
times  by  a  prayer  breathed  from  his  sorrowing  heart, 
to  riim  who  is  ever  "  touched  with  the  feeling  of 
our  infirmities,"  and  \\ho,  he  knew,  both  could  and 
would  give  to  his  child  the  strength  she  needed. 

Yet  was  Lilias  not  allowed  to  feel  a  lack  of  sym- 
pathy. Well  did  she  know,  that  although  her 
fixther  and  her  other  friends  thought  it  wiser  not  to 
weaken  her  by  over  much  expression  of  their  aflfec- 
tionate  and  sympathizing  feelings,  yet  that  those 
feelings  were  in  full  and  kindly  exercise,  and  daily 
as  she  drew  nearer  to  God,  and  was  more  and  more 
earnest  in  seeking  to  walk  with  Him,  so  did  she 
draw  closer  and  closer  in  love  to  those  dear  ones 
who  she  knew  were  so  tenderly,  though  silently, 
■watching  over  her. 

"  And  now,  Queen  Meta,"  said  Lily,  recovering 


208  BUND    LILIAS. 

herself,  and  speaking  in  a  cheerful  tone — "  you  are 
the  Queen  of  the  day — what  are  we,  your  subjects, 
to  do  next  f 

"  Well,"  replied  Meta  laughing,  "  I  should  say  to 
dine,  as  I,  for  one,  am  very  hungry." 

"  Ah,  yes — and  here  comes  Williams ;  to  tell  us 
ti.at  all  is  ready,  I  conclude,"  said  Mr.  Hope  ;  and 
without  delay  the  whole  party  adjourned  to  a  lovely 
nook  in  which  their  refreshments  had  been  spread, 
and  there  we  will  leave  them  to  enjoy  their  pleasant 
meal  and  pleasant  chat. 


XXI. 

A  FPJSITD  IIT  NSSD. 

^t'HE  dinner  over,  the  beautiful  spot  on  which 
^itv  they  had  partaken  of  it  was  abandoned  to  the 
servants,  who,  with  the  two  sailors,  were  then 
to  enjoy  their  repast ;  and  the  whole  party  set  for- 
ward, some  of  them  to  seek  a  new  spot  for  the 
scene  of  their  evening  meal,  whilst  the  others  un- 
dertook the  ascent  of  the  headland. 

As  Lilias  was  not  very  strong,  and  as  she  could 
not,  of  course,  derive  pleasure  from  the  grand  and 
beautiful  view  which  the  summit  of  Berry  Head 
commands,  Mr.  Hope  decided  that  she  should  not 
attempt  the  walk,  and,  of  course,  as  Lily  did  not  go, 
Emily  and  Blanche  remained  with  her.  The  boys 
went  to  the  rocks  for  shrimping ;  and  Mr.  Hope, 
Mrs.  l^velyn,  with  Meta  and  Eose,  Maud  and 
Mabel,  all  set  forward  in  full  spirits  to  inspect  the 
fortifications  ;  appointing  for  the  servants  and  chil- 
dren to  be  prepared  with  tea,  cake,  cream,  and 
fruit,  by  the  time  of  their  return. 

"  And  be  sure  you  fix  on  a  nice  place,  Emily," 


210  BLIND    LILIAS. 

said  Maud,  "  where  we  can  overlook  all  the  wide 
sea." 

"  O  yes,"  said  Emily,  "  we  will  hold  a  council, 
and  fix  on  a  charming  place,  and  have  the  tea-things 
all  prepared,  and  the  kettle  boiling  against  you 
come." 

And  full  of  delight  in  the  prospect,  they  at  once 
set  about  gathering  sticks  wherewith  to  light  the 
fire,  and  running  hither  and  thither,  fixing  first  on 
one  spot  and  then  on  another,  and  dragging  their 
heaps  of  sticks  wherever  they  went,  until  they  were 
quite  tired  and  breathless,  and  obliged  to  sit  down 
and  rest,  and  wait  until  Williams  and  Bertha  should 
have  dined,  and  come  to  aid  them  with  their  advice 
and  strength. 

"  I  should  like  to  tell  you  something  that  I  know," 
said  Lily  to  Emily,  Blanche  having  run  down  to 
the  shore  to  see  what  the  boys  were  doing,  "  only 
it's  such  a  secret." 

"  Oh  do,  Lily,"  replied  Emily  ;  "  you  know  you 
ought  not  to  have  any  secrets  from  me,  because  I 
am  your  friend,  and  you  should  tell  me  everything." 

"  I  should  like  it,"  said  Lily  ;  "  I  long  to  tell  you, 
but  it  is  a  great  secret." 

"So  much  the  better,"  answered  Emily,  "  I  shall 
be  sure  not  to  tell.     Do  tell  me,  quickly." 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED.  211 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Lily — "  but  do  you  think  I 
ought  to  tell  you,  Emmy  ?  Iain  afraid  not,  because 
it  is  a  real  secret,  and  Maud  and  Mabel  told  me  I 
was  to  be  sure  and  keep  it  so,  and  not  tell  any  one. 
I  reallj-  do  not  think  I  must  tell  you  now.  But  I 
have  a  secret,  and  a  beautiful  one.  Oh,  how  I 
should  like  you  to  know  it !" 

"  You  are  very  provoking,  Lilias.  Of  course  you 
ought  not  to  tell  if  your  sisters  told  you  in  con- 
fidence, and  bid  you  not  to  do  so.  But  you  should 
not  have  said  anything  about  it  if  you  did  not  mean 
to  tell." 

"No,  I  wish  I  had  not,"  said  little  Lily  ;  "it  was 
very  foolish." 

"  Of  course  it  was,""  said  Emily,  crossly;  "and 
now  I  shall  have  no  more  pleasure  to-day,  for  I  shall 
only  keep  on  thinking  what  the  secret  is;  if  people 
knew  anything  that  they  are  not  to  tell,  they  should 
not  keep  on  saying  that  they  have  '  a  secret,'  '  a 
beautiful  secret,'  and  that  they  wish  so  much  to  tell. 
It 's  quite  as  bad,  or  nearly  so,  as  telling  the  thing 
at  once,  and  it  only  makes  people  curious  and  un- 
comfortable." 

"  Well,  never  mind,  dear,"  said  Lily,  good- 
humouredly ;  "  I  will  ask  Maud  to  let  me  tell  you  ; 
but  it  is  a  secret  even  from  papa." 


212  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  However,  Lilias,"  said  Emily,  who,  although  a 
remarkably  amiable  child,  was  unfortunately  very 
prone  to  curiosity,  "  I  wish  you  had  just  thought  a 
little  before  you  raised  my  curiosity.  You  did  it 
on  purpose ;  I  do  believe  you  did,  because  you 
know  I  hate  not  to  be  told  things  that  others  know  !" 
and  rising  hastily,  Emily  turned  aside  in  an  angry 
manner,  and  began  to  walk  away  towards  the  shore, 
hurrying  her  steps  as  she  got  further  away,  and 
found  that  Lily  did  not  call  after  her. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  Emily  in  her  anger  for- 
got that  Lilias  could  not  see  her  go,  and  that  the 
turf  was  so  soft  and  full  in  that  spot,  that  it  was 
piobable  she  would  not  hear  her  light  footsteps  as 
she  departed.  Such  was,  however,  the  case.  Her 
little  companion  was  aware  that  she  had  risen,  and 
gone  a  step  or  two,  but  that  she  had  absolutely 
gone  away  she  had  not  discovered. 

Lilias,  conscious  that  she  had  been  wrong,  and  at 
the  same  time  feeling  some  bitter  risings  of  the  old 
proud  spirit  which  contended  against  her  owning 
that  fact,  sat  silent  for  a  few  moments ;  but  after  a 
short  time  of  struggle,  having  obtained  the  victory 
for  that  time,  she  spoke  in  a  pleasant  voice  and  said, 
"  Now,  don't  be  vexed,  dear.  I  was  wrong  to  speak 
before  I  thought,  and  I  do  assure  you  it  was  only 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED.  213 

that  I  so  longed  to  tell  you,  because  I  like  ijou 
always  to  know  wliat  I  am  thinking  about,  and  to 
share  my  pleasure.  Come,  Emmy,  come  and  sit 
down  again,  there's  a  darling  dear;"  but  no  answer 
was  returned.  Emily  was  then  far  gone,  and  poor 
Lilias  became  conscious  that  she  was  left  quite  alone 
in  that  strange  place.  She  was  sorely  frightened 
at  first ;  she  knew  not  where  she  was,  and  having 
heard  them  all  talking  about  cliffs,  and  precipices, 
and  rocks,  and  having  been  in  certain  places  most 
carefully  led  and  guided,  for  fear  she  should  get  into 
danger,  the  poor  child  magnified  the  terrors  of  her 
position  to  her  own  mind  and  became  dreadfully 
alarmed.  In  her  first  affright  she  uttered  a  loud 
scream,  but  no  one  heard  her,  and  then  recollecting 
the  lessons  she  had  received  on  presence  of  mind, 
and  still  more  those  which  had  of  late  so  impressed 
her  heart  of  God's  all-guiding  and  preserving  mer- 
cy, the  poor  little  girl  rose  from  the  turf  on  which 
she  sat,  and  kneeling  down,  besought  God  to  keep 
her  safe  from  harm,  and  make  her  patient  and  con- 
tented until  He  should  ])lease  to  send  some  one  to 
her ;  and  having  done  this,  and  felt  the  peace  which 
ever  follows  a  simple  casting  of  our  care  on  our 
God,  she  resolved  not  to  stir  a  step  until  some  one 
came,  and  seating  herself  exactly  on  the  spot  whence 


214  BLIND    LILIAS. 

she  had  risen,  she  began  to  strive  to  keep  up  her 
spirits  in  her  dark  solitude  by  singing  hymns. 
Half  an  hour  at  least  had  passed  and  still  Lily  sang 
on,  varying  her  song  by  an  occasional  German  hymn 
which  she  had  learned  from  her  little  friends.  At 
length  a  step  was  heard  approaching,  and  Lilias, 
sure  that  it  must  be  some  of  her  own  party,  left  off 
singing,  and  springing  up,  said,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  glad. 
Thank  God,  you  are  come  at  last !" 

"  And  who  are  you,  my  little  one,  who  seem  to 
know  me  so  well,  and  to  be  so  glad  to  see  me  1" 
asked  a  pleasant  and  harmonious  voice,  which, 
although  it  was  new  to  the  child's  ear,  she  at  once 
perceived  to  be  that  of  a  gentleman.  "  I  never  saw 
you  before,  my  dear ;  did  I '?"  said  he. 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  replied  Lilias.  "  I  do  not 
know  who  you  are.  I  thought  it  was  my  papa,  or 
one  of  the  servants,  or  Emily,  or  some  of  my  own 
people." 

"  Why,  my  child,"  said  her  visitor,  laughing  ;  "  I 
must  be  a  very  odd-looking  man  for  you  not  to 
know,  when  you  look  full  at  me,  whether  I  am  your 
papa,  or  a  servant,  or  a  lady  !  Why,  what  is  it, 
little  girl  ?  tell  me  how  you  came  to  be  here  alone, 
and  whether  I  can  take  you  to  your  friends." 

"  Oh  yes  ;  if  you  please,  sir,   pray   do,"  replied 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED.  215 

Lily.  "  I  am  afraid  to  make  one  step  alone,  lest 
I  should  fall  clown  the  cliff,  or  into  the  sea.  If 
you  -svill  lead  me  to  some  of  my  friends,  I  shall  be 
so  much  obliged  to  you  ;"  and  she  held  her  hand 
towards  him  in  the  groping  manner  peculiar  to 
those  who  walk  in  darkness. 

"  Ah,  now  I  see !"  said  the  stranger  in  a  voice  of 
the  tenderest  pity.  "You  are  blind,  poor  child, 
and  cannot  see  that  neither  cliff  nor  sea  is  near  you. 
I  think  you  must  be  Mr.  Hope's  little  girl ;  but  how- 
ls it  that  you  are  here  alone  1" 

"  Yes,  I  am,  sir ;  I  am  Lilias  Hope,"  replied  she 
eagerly,  "  and  I  have  been  blind  for  more  than  a 
year.  Emily  Dormer  was  here  with  me,  and  she 
went  away  just  now.     I  do  not  know  where  she  is." 

"  But  she  should  not  have  left  you  alone,  my  dear 
child,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I  fear  she  is  but  a  giddy 
guardian  for  a  blind  child." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  replied  Lilias  quickly  ;  "  she  is 
very  steady  and  kind,  and  generally  takes  such  great 
care  of  me,  and  we  are  such  friends.  She  never 
did  so  before  ;  but  I  suppose  she  forgot,  and  thought 
Williams  and  Bertha  would  come  in  a  minute ;  I 
assure  you,  sir,  she  is  not  giddy." 

"Well,  my  ticar,"  answered  her  new  friend,  "I 
will  take  Emily's  character  on  your  word.     And 


216  BLIND    LILIAS. 

now,"  added  he,  "  I  suspect  we  are  not  far  from  some 
of  your  party,  for  I  see  a  respectable  looking  man- 
servant, and  a  woman  who  looks  like  a  bonne  with 
them ;  are  they  the  Williams  and  Bertha  of  whom 
you  spoke  ?" 

The  greeting  of  Lilias  and  the  servants  showed 
the  stranger  that  he  was  right. 

"  Miss  Lily,  my  dear  young  lady,  where  ever 
have  you  a  been  to  V  asked  Williams  with  evident 
astonishment  at  seeing  the  blind  child  approaching 
with  a  stranger.  "  When  I  came  to  see  the  young 
gentlemen,  and  Miss  Emily  and  Miss  Blanche  all 
down  among  the  rocks  together,  and  no  Miss  Lilias, 
I  was  in  a  fine  way.  Excuse  me,  sir,"  continued  he, 
bowing  to  the  stranger  ;  "  but  Miss  Lily's  not  able 
to  make  her  way  about  like  the  rest,  and  when  my 
master  is  to  a  distance,  I  feel  answerable-like  for 
her." 

The  gentleman  now  gave  his  name  as  Mr.  Gam- 
bier,  and  said  that  he  was  a  clergyman,  and  that  as 
Mr.  Hope  was  his  near  neighbor,  and  he  had  much 
desire  for  his  acquaintance,  he  would  walk  on  in  the 
direction  which  he  heard  he  had  taken,  and  intro- 
duce himself;  and,  leaving  Lily  to  the  charge  of 
her  attendants,  he  proceeded  to  do  so. 

Meanwhile,  Emily  had  suddenly  remembered  the 


A   FKIKND    IN    NEED.  217 

position  in  which  she  had  left  her  friend,  and  ab- 
ruptly leaving  the  other  children,  who  called  after 
her  in  astonishment  at  her  rapid  flight,  she  hastened 
up  to  the  little  glade  where  she  had  been  seated. 
Great  was  her  dismay  when  she  saw  that  Lilias  was 
no  longer  there.  That  she  had  found  the  right  spot 
she  was  sure,  for  there  were  the  flowers  she  had 
thrown  down  when  she  had  left  the  place,  and  a  little 
further  on,  and  in  the  direction  of  a  very  danger- 
ous path,  lay  one  of  Lily's  gloves. 

Emily's  terror  was  unbounded.  Thoughtless  of 
screening  herself  from  he  blame  which  she  knew 
she  deserved  for  having  left  her  alone,  she  rushed 
back  to  the  shore  in  a  flood  of  tears,  and,  shouting 
to  the  boys  from  a  distance,  she  told  them  to  come 
and  help  her  to  look  for  Lily,  and  then  ran  back 
herself  to  the  spot,  which  was  not  far  distant,  in  an 
agony  of  terror,  followed  by  Vernon  and  the  others. 
Vernon  suggested  that  most  likely  the  servants  had 
found  her,  and  taken  her  away  with  them  ;  but 
Emily  would  not  be  pacified.  She  was  sure  Lilias 
must  have  fallen  over  some  clifi',  or  wandered  away 
in  those  strange  places,  and  would  be  irretrievably 
lost ;  and  all  the  sad  stories  of  children  lost  in  the 
wilds  ihat  she  had  ever  read  or  heard  of,  seemed 
to  rise  before  her  terrified  mind,  and  sitting  down 


218  BLIND    LILIAS. 

on  the  ground,  she  moaned  and  cried,  saying  that  it 
was  all  her  fault. 

Vernon  was,  however,  more  reasonable  ;  he  per- 
sisted that  it  was  most  likely  that  Lily  was  safe 
with  the  servants,  and  that  at  any  rate  it  was  wiser 
to  go  and  look  for  her  than  to  sit  there  lamenting 
over  imaginary  terrors ;  and,  carrying  out  his  de- 
signs, he  ran  to  a  high  point  at  some  little  distance, 
and  there  saw  that  he  was  right,  and  returned  with 
the  welcome  news  that  Lily,  with  Williams  and 
Bertha,  was  very  busy  in  getting  out  the  tea  equip- 
age, and  at  but  a  short  distance  from  them,  and  that 
they  had  better  all  join  the  party,  and  get  Bertha  to 
light  the  fire  quickly,  and  boil  the  shrimps  that  they 
had  caught  in  the  pools  at  once,  that  so  they  might 
be  cold  by  tea-time. 

Joyous  was  the  greeting  of  Emily  and  Lilias. 
Emily,  whose  displeasure  never  lasted  long,  and 
who  besides  had  been  too  entirely  quelled  by  her 
fright  to  have  any  remembrance  of  her  having 
thought  herself  aggrieved,  threw  her  arms  round 
her  little  friend,  and  begged  her  pardon  a  dozen 
times,  whilst  Lily  whispered,  "  I  have  not  told  why 
you  went  away,  so  do  not  you,  Emmy,  because  they 
might  be  angry  with  you,  and  it  was  all  my  fault 
for  vexing  you." 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEKD.  219 

"  I  have  told  them  all,"  replied  Emily,  "  and  I 
am  ashamed  of  myself,  Lily.  It  was  all  my  fault 
to  be  so  cross,  but  I  have  had  a  lesson  that  I  shall 
not  forget." 

"  But  never  mind,  Emmy,  not  for  me  at  least.  I 
got  very  comfortable  after  just  the  first,  and  then 
God  sent  some  one  to  find  me  out.  It  was  like 
sending  the  angel  to  Hagar  in  the  wilderness,  and 
really  his  voice  was  like  an  angel's,  it  was  so  sweet ;" 
and  beginning  from  the  time  Emily  had  left,  she 
told  her  all  she  had  done  and  thought,  until  "(hat 
nice  Mr.  Gambler  came  and  was  so  kind.  I  shall 
like  him  so  very  much,  Emily  ;  I  know  I  shall,  and 
so  will  you,  and  papa,  and  Maud,  and  May.  He  is 
gone  up  the  hill  to  meet  them  now,  and  I  do  hope 
he  will  come  back  to  tea.  But  come,  we  must  be 
busy — you  lead  me,  and  then  we  can  both  carry 
things,  and  we  are  to  have  tea  on  the  grassy  top  of 
the  old  lime-kiln,  such  a  pretty  .place  they  say." 

And  fully  reconciled  to  each  other,  the  little  girls 
ran  about  from  place  to  place  gathering  sticks  and 
dry  grass  to  make  the  fire,  and  receiving  the  difier- 
ent  parcels  from  the  baskets  as  Williams  and  Ber- 
tha unpacked  them,  to  carry  them  to  the  place 
where  they  were  to  be  used. 

"  Why,  girls,  it  is  of  no  use  for  you  to  rush  and 


220  BLIND    LILIAS. 

rim  about  so,  you  will  tire  yourselves  to  death,  and 
not  get  through  the  work  either,"  said  Vernon. 
"  Come,  let  us  make  a  chain,  and  hand  the  things 
on  from  one  to  another.  Here,  Ned,  you  stand 
there,  and,  Bertha,  you  take  the  things  from  Wil- 
liams and  hand  them  on  to  Ned,  and  then  Emily 
can  take  them  from  you,  and  pass  them  to  Lily,  and 
she  can  hand  them  on  to  me,  and  I  will  carry  them 
to  the  ground.  Here,  Blanchie,  you  must  help  Lily, 
she  will  not  be  able  to  get  on  here  without  a  guide." 

Delighted  with  this  new  mode  of  management, 
the  children  worked  most  pleasantly,  and  soon  all 
the  contents  of  the  hampers  were  placed  together 
on  the  green  sward,  which  carpeted  the  top  of  the 
kiln.  Then  the  fire  was  lighted,  and  Bertha  and  the 
boys  boiled  the  shrimps,  and  put  on  the  kettle, 
whilst  Williams  and  the  rest  of  the  party  spread 
the  cloth,  and  placed  on  it  all  the  requisites  for  their 
evening  meal ;  and  just  as  they  were  all  ready, 
voices  were  heard,  and  the  walking  party  who  had 
been  guided  by  the  smoke  to  the  right  point,  sud- 
denly made  their  appearance,  and  with  them  Mr. 
Gambler. 

The  spot  on  which  the  party  had  fixed  as  the 
most  attractive  for  their  resting-place,  was  indeed 
charming ;  a  very  large  circle  at   the  top   of  the 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED.  221 

cliff,  in  which  the  cavern  before  named  lay,  had 
been  surrounded  by  a  wall  about  breast-high,  the 
space  included  being  from  thirty  to  forty  feet  in 
diameter,  and  looking  not  unlike  the  low  battlement 
of  the  turret  of  a  castle.  The  ground  within  this 
enclosure  was  level,  and  covered  with  soft  short 
grass  of  unusual  verdure,  and  the  wildly  extended 
view  which  it  commanded  of  the  broad  open  sea  on 
one  hand,  and  of  the  lovely  bay  with  its  diversified 
shores  on  the  other,  and  before  them,  was  beautiful 
in  the  extreme.  Brixliam,  Goodrington,  Paignton, 
and  then  Tor,  and  Torquay,  with  its  many  hills  all 
flecked  with  pretty  villas,  its  crowded  basin,  and 
elegant  spire,  all  lay  outspread  before  them,  and  the 
immense  fleet  of  fishing  vessels  that  are  always  try- 
ing their  trade  at  the  mouth  of  the  bay,  gave  life 
and  spirit  to  the  scene. 

"  Why,  this  is  a  '  paradise  of  dainty  devices,' " 
said  Mr.  Hope,  as  he  entered  through  the  gap  in 
the  wall,  that  admitted  him  to  a  sight  of  the  pretty 
scene  of  busy  children,  and  the  pleasant-looking  tea 
equipage.  "  What  fairy  directed  you  to  this  lovely 
place,  my  children  V 

"Why,  it   was   realli/  a   fairy,  Mr.   Hope,"  ex- 
claimed Emily.     "  It  was  little  Fata  that  found  it 
out;  we  could  not  tliink  where  her  ladyship  was, 
19* 


222  BLIND    LILIA8. 

when  suddenly  Williams  heard  her  little  voice 
barking,  barking,  and  looking  up,  there  she  was, 
standing  on  the  wall,  and  barking  at  a  bird ;  so  he 
came  up  to  fetch  her,  and  found  out  this  pretty 
place." 

The  whole  party  were  soon  arranged  on  their 
grassy  seats,  and  the  large  kettle  having  been  pro- 
nounced to  be  boiling,  the  tea  was  made,  and  the 
pleasant  meal  proceeded  most  merrily. 

Mr.  Gambler  was  a  very  satisfactory  addition  to 
their  circle.  He  introduced  many  new  subjects  of 
conversation  which  pleasingly  diversified  their  usual 
routine,  and  this  was  agreeable.  But  it  was  in 
himself  that  the  charm  lay.  There  was  a  freshness 
and  vigor  about  him  that  was  altogether  unusual, 
and  so  high  and  true  a  tone  of  Christian  principle 
pervaded  his  conversation,  that  it  gave  harmony 
and  dignity  to  all  he  said.  He  was  young,  not 
handsome,  but  gentlemanly  and  pleasant-looking, 
cheerful  even  to  mirthfulness,  yet  never  saying  a 
word  that  bordered  on  levity.  Mr.  Hope  was 
greatly  pleased  with  him,  as  were  all  the  party, 
and  all  were,  therefore,  heartily  glad  when  they 
learned  that  he  was  no  other  than  their  long  ex- 
pected new  vicar,  who  had  arrived  in  the  village 
but  the  day  before. 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED.  223 

"  What  is  this  I  hear  of  you,  Lilias  ?"  said  Mr. 
Hope,  after  they  had  been  seated  a  short  time. 
"How  came  Mr.  Gambier  to  find  you  sitting 'all 
alone  by  yourself,  singing  Langoleel'" 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Lily,  "  I  was  not  singing  that, 
I  do  not  know  what  it  is ;  I  was  singing  a  hymn,  I 
think." 

'•  But  why  were  you  there  alone,  dear,  in  that 
out-of-the-way  place  1  you  should  not  have  been  by 
yourself;  which  of  you  was  it  that  left  her  so?" 
he  added,  asking  the  question  generally. 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,"  began  Emily,  blushing  and 
looking  distressed ;  but  Lily  hastily  interrupted 
her,  saying, 

"  I  was  in  a  very  safe  place,  papa,  and  sat  quite 
still.  Emmy  was  with  me  at  first,  and  then  she 
went  down  to  the  shore,  and  I  sat  still,  and  sang 
till  Mr.  Gambier  came." 

Mr.  Hope  easily  perceived  by  Emily's  manner, 
and  Lily's  hasty  interruption,  that  something  had 
been  amiss,  but  he  kindly  respected  his  child's  evi- 
dent desire  to  avoid  discussion  of  the  subject,  and 
as  he  guessed  that  it  must  arise  from  a  desire  of 
screening  her  little  friend  from  blame,  he  said  no 
more,  and  Emily's  relieved  and  grateful  look  would 
have  more  than  repaid  Lily  for  her  forbearance, 
could  she  have  seen  it. 


XXII. 

:00K  at  that  pretty  yacht,"  said  Mrs. 
Evelyn,  who  had  been  for  some  time 
watching  the  sea.  "  What  a  beautiful 
little  vessel !  She  is  come  in  close  ashore,  as  if  to 
land  some  one." 

All  were  so  intent  on  looking  at  the  vessel 
(which  had  now  put  off  a  boat,  into  which  a  gentle- 
man had  stepped,  and  was  being  rowed  straight  to 
the  roclis),  that  no  one  noticed  the  glance  which 
was  exchanged  between  Maud  and  Mabel,  nor  the 
bright  light  which  illuminated  their  countenances, 
as  they  each  took  an  arm  of  their  father,  and  stood 
looking  first  at  him,  and  then  at  the  boat.  But 
Meta,  who  stood  by  Lily,  was  very  much  astonished 
to  hear  her  exclaim,  '■  Oh,  I  ivish  I  could  see,  oh,  I 
wish  I  could  see !"  with  great  vehemence.  "  Oh, 
do  tell  me,  is  he  coming,  has  he  landed  ?  Oh,  I 
wish  I  could  but  see  ;"  and  then,  overcome  by  her 
emotions,  she  began  to  cry.  Maud  left  her  father's 
side,  threw  her  arm  round  Lily's  waist,  and  gently 


EV^RARU's    ARRIVAL.  225 

soothing  her,  whispered  a  few  words  in  her  ear, 
and  then  leading  her  towards  her  father,  she  said, 

"  Come,  papa,  let  us,  you  and  your  three  girls, 
go  down  and  see  whether  we  can  find  out  who  this 
visitor  is.     I  think  /  have  a  guess." 

'■  It  is  Everard,  my  own  dear  son,"  said  Mr. 
Hope,  joyfully,  as  he  watched  the  stranger ;  and 
taking  Lily  between  himself  and  Maud,  Mabel 
hastening  on  before,  they  all  made  their  way  down 
towards  the  shore  as  speedily  as  they  could. 

"  Why,  Everard,  how  came  you  here,  how  did 
you  know  exactly  where  to  find  us,  as  if  by  magic  ? 
My  dear  boy,  how  rejoiced  I  am  to  see  you,"  said 
Mr.  Hope,  as  he  warmly  embraced  his  son. 

"  Ask  the  girls,  sir,"  replied  Everard,  laughing, 
as  he  kissed  his  sisters.  "  It  was  their  plan — they 
would  insist  on  it  that  I  should  give  yoa  a  pleasant 
surprise.  I  wrote  to  Maud  that  I  should  come  by 
my  friend  Grosvenor's  yacht,  which  was  going 
down  to  Plymouth,  and  probably  be  in  the  bay 
this  evening,  so  she  and  May  set  their  young  minds 
on  your  all  meeting  me  here." 

"  Oh  you  silly  girls,"  said  Mr.  Hope.  "  Do  not 
you  think  I  should  have  enjoyed  the  anticipation  as 
much  as  the  surprise?     You  young  things  do  love 


226  BLIND    LILIAB. 

a  secret.  Howevei",  this  is  a  very  pleasant  sur- 
prise, I  must  own." 

"  And,  do  you  know,  pater,"  said  May,  "  I  doubt 
whether  you  would  have  had  a  bit  of  enjoyment  to- 
day in  anything  that  we  have  done,  if  your  heart 
had  been  all  afloat  with  Evra ;  you  would  have 
feared  being  too  late,  and  missing  his  first  arrival, 
or  not  have  had  dinner  till  this  time,  for  fear  he 
should  come  in  the  middle,'' 

"  Get  along,  saucy  child,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  laugh- 
ing. "  There  will  be  no  bearing  you,  now  that  you 
have  your  '  Evra '  at  home  again.  You  two  always 
stick  together  like  the  two  shells  of  a  cockle,  and 
fit  each  other  about  as  well.  But  now,  my  boy, 
come  and  let  me  introduce  you  to  friends  of  whom 
you  have  heard  enough  I  suspect." 

"  Pretty  well  for  that,"  said  Everard ;  '*  as  to 
May's  letters,  they  speak  but  of  one,  but  from  you 
and  the  rest,  father,  I  have  heard  of  several,  all  of 
whom  I  long  to  see  and  know.  As  to  May,  I 
doubt  not  that  I  shall  find,  when  I  get  home,  that 
she  has  been  '  abusing  our  young  plants  with  carv- 
ing Meta  on  their  barks,  hanging  odes  upon  haw- 
thorns, and  elegies  on  brambles;  all  forsooth,  deify- 
ing the  name  of  Meta.'     Hey,  Mabel !  is  it  so  V 

"  You  can  look  about  on  the  trees  and  find  out 


everard's  arkival,  227 

for  yoursoU"  if  you  choose,"  replied  Mabel,  laugh- 
ing ;  ''  but  first  see  whether,  at  the  end  of  the 
month,  you  are  not  as  great  an  admirer  of  Meta  as 
I  am,  Master  Evra.  But  I  shall  run  on  and  pre- 
pare them  for  your  arrival,  for  I  think  our  sudden 
charge  down-hill,  of  which  we  gave  not  the  slight- 
est notice,  must  have  astonished  them  all,  and  what 
they  will  all  have  thought  of  our  emphatic  embrac- 
ing and  kissing  of  the  unknown  knight  of  the  yacht, 
I  cannot  think."  And  hastening  on,  whilst  Mr. 
Hope  and  the  rest  paused  a  little  to  give  her  time, 
Mabel  made  the  best  of  her  way  back  to  the  top 
of  the  lime-kiln  and  soon  returned,  bringing  all  her 
friends  with  her  to  meet  the  party. 

Introductions  and  first  greetings  having  taken 
place,  the  meal,  wliich  had  been  interrupted  by 
Everard's  arrival,  proceeded  very  agreeably.  Ever- 
ard  confessed  to  being  very  hungry,  and  the  ham- 
pers were  ransacked,  and  obliged  to  give  up  certain 
relics  of  cold  chicken  and  tongue  that  had  remained 
from  their  dinner;  and  then  Mr.  Gambicr  admit- 
ted that  he  had  had  no  dinner,  having  been  rambling 
for  several  lunirs,  with  the  intention  of  returning  ear- 
lier; and  so  both  young  men  ate  and  laughed,  and 
became  exceedingly  friendly  with  each  other  and 
with  the  whole  party  to  whom  they  had   so  lately 


228  BLIND    LILIAS. 

been  introduced ;  for  lew  things  tend  so  much  to 
breaking  down  the  barriers  of  reserve,  which  is  so 
apt  to  keep  people  back  from  friendship,  as  the 
frank  out-of-door  intercourse  which  arises  when  the 
seats  are  grassy,  and  the  plates  and  cups  scarcely 
enough  for  the  party.  Mirthful  contrivances  then 
take  the  place  of  conventionalities,  and  induce  a 
degree  of  sociability  which  ordinary  drawing-room 
life  would  be  much  longer  in  supplying. 

But  pleasant  evenings  will  come  to  an  end  ;  and 
Mrs.  Evelyn's  calling  Mr.  Hope's  attention  to  the 
lengthening  of  the  shadows,  was  the  signal  for  a 
speedy  packing-up  and  dispersing.  As  all,  except 
Mr.  Gambler,  were  of  one  party,  and  as  he  was 
going  to  within  a  mile  of  the  Grange,  it  was  not  a 
final  dispersion,  although  a  division  of  parties  was 
to  ensue,  some  going  in  the  boat  and  the  rest  in  the 
carriage,  some  of  those  who  had  come  by  water 
])eing  to  return  by  land. 

Everard  said  he  had  had  enough  of  the  sea  for 
one  day,  so  he  should  go  over  the  hill  with  his  sis- 
ters and  Meta.  Mr.  Hope  being  a  little  afraid  for 
Lily  to  be  so  late  on  the  water,  said  that  he  should 
like  her  to  be  in  the  carriage ;  and  as  it  seemed 
that  there  was  not  sufficient  room  for  all  who 
wished  to  go  by  land  in   Mr.  Hope's  carriage,  Mr. 


evekaud's  akkival.  22l> 

Gambler  asked  leave  to  drive  Lllias  and  her  friend 
Emily  in  his  pony  phaeton,  which  he  had  put  up  at 
an  inn  about  a  mile  off,  by  which  the  party  must 
jiass  :  and  this  being  arranged,  the  boat  was  left  to 
the  boys  and  the  servants.  The  arrangement  then 
was,  that  the  little  girls  should  go  as  far  as  the  inn 
in  the  Coburg,  with  Mrs.  Evelyn,  Rose,  and  Maud, 
whilst  Mr.  Hope,  Meta,  Mabel,  and  the  two  young 
men,  walked  so  far.  They  were  then  to  put  Lily 
and  Emily  into  Mr.  Gambler's  carriage,  and  fill 
their  places  with  Meta  and  Mabel.  This  plan  was 
highly  approved  by  the  young  people;  but  the 
usual  mode  of  walking  was  abandoned ;  for  once 
Mabel  and  Meta  were  not  side  by  side,  but  Meta 
accepted  Everard's  offered  arm,  and  Mabel,  who 
had  her  father's  jfssistancc  in  climbing  the  hill,  was 
so  busily  engaged  in  chatting  with  him  and  Mr. 
Gambler,  that,  after  the  first  few  minutes  of  their 
walk,  whilst  they  were  all  close  together,  the  two 
parties  did  not  ^exchange  words  with  each  other 
until  they  arrived  at  the  place  where  they  were  to 
meet  the  carriage. 

Lllias  was  delighted.    She  had  her  old  friend  and 
her  new  friend  by  her.     She  thought  herself  a  lit- 
tle elevated  by  the  dignity  of  being  driven  home 
by  Mr.  Gambler ;  and  above  all,  she  felt  that  she 
20 


230  BLIND    LILIAS. 

had  conquered  herself,  and  behaved  well  under  pro- 
vocation, so  that  a  peaceful  conscience,  and  a  calm 
feeling  of  confi(]ence  in  Ilira  who  had  enabled  her 
to  do  so.  shed  a  holy  and  happy  influence  over  her. 
And  that  sweet  drive,  and  the  kind  and  pleasant  con- 
versation with  which  Mr.  Gambier  beguiled  the 
way  to  her  and  his  other  young  companion,  were 
never  forgotten  by  the  little  blind  girl,  and  took 
their  place  amongst  the  sweetest  and  most  treasured 
records  of  her  memory. 

From  this  time  forward  Mr.  Gambier  became 
the  constant  visitor  and  companion  of  both  families. 
The  circumstance  of  the  vicarage  house  being  re- 
building obliged  hiiu  to  be  in  not  very  comfortable 
lodsfings,  and  as  he  was  as  much  within  reach  of 
his  people  at  the  Grange  as  in  ^the  farm-house  at 
the  other  end  of  the  parish,  where  he  lodged,  he 
was  very  often  induced  to  share  the  family  meals 
at  that  house,  and  to  be  there  at  such  times  as 
parish  duties  or  the  claims  of  study  left  him  free  to 
do  so. 

The  first  Sunday  after  Mr.  Gambler's  arrival  was 
a  day  of  much  interest  to  all  the  inhabitants  of 
Coombhurst,  but  to  none  more  than  to  the  families 
at  the  Grange  and  Cliff  Cottage. 

Poor  Lilias  was  all  eagerness ;  and  when  she  first 


EVERARD  S    ARRIVAL. 


281 


heard  the  voice  of  her  new  friend  giving  utterance 
to  the  solemn  words  of  exhortation  with  which  our 
beautiful  service  opens,  the  little  girl's  heart  was 
almost  too  full  to  think  of  anything  but  him  who 
ministered.  In  a  little  while,  however,  she  began 
to  recollect  that  her  thoughts  should  be  with  God, 
not  with  her  friend,  and  makhig  a  steady  eftbrt,  she 
was  soon  able  to  recover  herself,  and  join  devoutly 
in  the  prayers,  and  listen  attentively  to  the  Scrip- 
tures as  they  were  read  to  them.  Then  came  the 
psalm,  and  then  her  eagerness  again  almost  over- 
powered her  as  she  heard  Mr.  Gambier  give  out  the 
text.  Could  it  really  be  so  ?  Yes,  it  was — the  text 
was  Lily's  "own  text,"  as  she  called  it,  from  1  John 
i,  3 — "  Truly  our  fellowship  is  wilh  the  Father,  and 
with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ."  Putting  her  hand  into 
her  father's,  she  called  on  him  by  an  emphatic 
squeeze  to  share  her  pleasure,  and  then  settling  her- 
self, with  her  poor  sightless  eyes  raised  as  if  she 
could  see  the  preacher,  Lilias  delivered  herself  up 
to  the  new  delight  of  hearing  a  solemn  and  afltiction- 
ate  setting  forth  of  '•  the  Word  of  Life ;"  a  faith- 
ful account  of  God's  message  to  man,  that  "  God  is 
light,  and  in  Him  is  no  darkness  at  all ;"  that  if  we 
^ay  wc  have  fellowship  with  Ilim,  we  must  walk  as 
He  walked  in  the  light,  liaving  fellowship  with  Ilim 


232  BLIND    LILIAS, 

and  with  one  another — subduing  sin  in  His  strength, 
and  fighting  against  all  that  would  oppose  itself  to 
Him  and  His  rule — loving  one  another  as  brethren. 
All  wore  full  of  thankfulness.  There  was  some- 
thing for  all.  The  old  and  the  young,  the  educated 
and  the  ignorant — none  need  have  left  the  church 
that  day  without  taking  with  them  food  for  thought 
at  home,  and  a  something  of  comfort  and  instruo 
tion.  The  second  service  was  as  satisfactory  as  the 
first,  and  Maud  and  her  sister  brought  home  word 
from  the  school  that  their  new  pastor  had  opened 
the  attendance  with  prayer,  and  examine-d  the  first 
class  of  scholars  ;  and  had  announced  his  intention 
of  doing  so  every  Sunday,  as  also  of  visiting  the 
day-school  once  or  twice  in  every  week.  In  his 
evening  prayer  Mr.  Hope  retunied  thanks  to  God 
for  the  great  mercy  vouchsafed  them,  and  besought 
His  blessing  on  their  new  rector's  n)inistry ;  and 
then  all  returned  to  their  rooms  full  of  pleasant 
hopes  and  thoughts  for  the  future. 

The  following  morning  found  Mr.  Gambier 
closeted  with  Mr.  Hope  and  Everard,  discussing 
plans  for  the  good  of  his  parish  ;  and  from  that  day 
forward,  as  he  was  of  a  very  social  temperament, 
and  always  found  a  warm  welcome  at  the  Grange, 
it  was  not  lo  be  wondered  at  that  a  day  seldom 


i 


everard's  arrival.  233 

passed  without  his  being  there  during  some  part 
of  it. 

He  and  Everard  now  bocanae  fast  friends.  Ever- 
ard  Hope  was  a  growing  Christian,  though  far  from 
a  mature  one.  In  early  life  he  had  been  so  delicate 
in  health  that  he  had  been  much  kept  at  home,  and 
consequently  had  enjoyed  the  inestimable  benefit 
of  the  watchful  care  of  his  pious  and  wise-hearted 
mother,  and  under  her  teaching  had  learned  to  see 
somewhat  of  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  if  not  to 
seek  after  it,  at  any  rate  to  admire  it.  As  time 
went  on  after  he  had  been  bereaved  of  her  society 
and  guidance,  he  began  to  turn  with  an  affection 
and  reliance  even  stronger  than  before  to  his  fath- 
er, and  in  him  he  found  a  friend  on  whose  judg- 
ment he  might  rely,  and  in  whose  love  he  might 
confide,  and  consequently  he  climg  to  him  with 
great  ardor  of  affection  combined  with  a  more  than 
ordinary  depth  of  reverence.  His  whole  heart  was 
open  to  his  flither's  eye ;  and  although  that  heart 
had  but  too  often  Mandered  from  its  God,  yet  had 
it  never  turned  from  his  earthly  father,  nor  been 
disposed  to  set  at  nought  his  instructions  or  wishes. 

But  now  a  new  era  had  opened  in  the  life  of 
Everard.  For  many  months  he  had  been  evincing 
a  de:;ire  to  walk  more  closely  with  God,  and  Mr. 
20* 


234  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Hope  hailed  with  joy  the  growing  friendship  be- 
tween the  two  young  men,  feeling  assured  that  in 
Mr.  Gambler,  Everard  would  find  one  who  would 
prove  a  valuable  guide  and  support,  and  who 
would  be  both  able  and  willing  to  help  him  on- 
wards. 

Mabel  and  Everard  had  always  been  the  closest 
friends.  He  was  four  or  five  years  older  than  she 
was,  but  there  was  in  their  natural  characters  so 
much  that  was  alike,  that  they  had  always  been 
drawn  very  closely  together,  and  been  in  the  habit 
of  the  most  confidential  intercourse.  But  in  Mabel, 
alas  !  there  was  not  that  love  of  God  that  now  be- 
gan to  actuate  her  brother's  motives,  Slie  respect- 
ed religion,  and  at  times  used  to  say  that  she  wished 
she  was  like  her  brother  and  sister,  but  she  was 
conscious  that  she  did  not  cordially  love  God's 
service. 

She  felt  tliat  they  were  right,  but  she  could  not 
find  in  her  heart  to  join  them  ;  and  yet  she  did  not 
like  to  be  left  behind.  It  was  painful  to  her  now 
to  see  Everard,  her  own  favorite  brother,  to  whom 
she  had  always  been  the  first  object,  finding  a  de- 
light in  things  and  conversation  into  wdiich  she  could 
not  enter;  and  at  times  she  almost  thought  that  she 
too  must  turn  from  the  world  and   become  one  of 


everard's  arrival.  2Ji5 

them.  But  this  she  could  not  do :  no  one  can  turn 
from  the  world  merely  for  the  sake  of  companion- 
ship with  the  godly,  or  seek  God  unless  the  Spirit 
of  God  draws  the  heart  towards  himself  Mabel 
was  too  true  and  candid  to  profess  that  which  she 
did  not  feel ;  she  was  too  well  instructed  not  to  know 
that  the  desire  not  to  be  left  behind  by  others  is  not 
religion.  Her  fixther  had  much  hope  that  the  con- 
stant companionship  of  Meta,  would  be  blessed  to 
his  darling  child  ;  but  though  Mabel  loved  Meta 
with  an  almost  idolatrous  affection,  she  had  not 
been  induced  by  her  to  take  a  more  decided  course. 

Mabel  loved  IVIeta,  as  it  were,  notwithstanding 
her  religion.  She  lovud  the  fruits  that  the  grace  of 
God  produced  in  Meta's  heart  and  conduct,  but  she 
did  not  love  the  religion  whence  these  fruits  sprung  ; 
and  although  she  listened  to  Meta's  words  with  for- 
bearance, because  of  the  dear  voice  which  uttered 
them,  she  often  wished  that  her  friend  did  not  so 
fi'equently  return  to  the  one  point  in  their  conver- 
sation, and  was  always  glad  when  an  interruption 
of  any  kind  occurred  and  put  aside  these  more 
serious  topics. 

Mabel  was  ardent,  affectionate,  full  of  life  and 
spirits,  and  so  amiable  and  sweet-tempered,  that  all 
loved  her. 


236  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Everard  shared  all  these  points  of  character  with 
her,  but  he  had  sounder  judgment,  and  a  higher  tone 
of  principle. 

Nugent  more  resembled  Maud  in  his  tone  of 
mind  :  there  was  a  solidity  of  character  about  him, 
combined  with  shining  talents — two  qualities  which 
are  not  very  often  united  in  the  same  person — yet 
there  was,  withal,  a  peculiar  intensity  of  feeling, 
and  concentrated  affection  on  any  one  object  on 
whom  his  regard  had  been  fixed,  that  almost  sa- 
vored of  Mabel's  characteristics.  Nugent  was  slow 
in  giving  his  regard,  and  reserved  in  speaking  of 
his  feelings  ;  but  his  love  or  friendship  once  given, 
was  with  difficulty  uprooted,  or  even  shaken  ;  and 
though  his  passions,  and  the  expression  of  them, 
were  well  under  control,  he  was  one  who  would  be 
likely  to  suffer  more  from  any  trial  to  his  affections 
than  many  whose  minds  were  of  a  different  cast. 

Maud  had  many  of  these  points  of  character  alsO) 
but  she  combined  with  them  a  pride  of  spirit,  and 
something  of  a  jealousy  of  feeling,  that  were  far 
from  Nugent's  heart.  Maud  felt  that  respect  and 
love  were  her  right,  and  if  she  fancied  that  they 
were  withheld  from  her,  her  spirit  rose,  and  a  cold 
reserve  took  the  place  of  her  usual  tender  and  lov- 
ing manner.     On  such  occasions,  she  wept  in  secret, 


everard's  arrival.  237 

but  allowed  no  signs  of  her  distress  to  be  seen,  if 
she  could  possibly  avoid  it.  Nugent,  on  the  con- 
trary, received  the  love,  which  was  in  general  freely 
bestowed  on  him,  as  a  gracious  gift  to  which  he  had 
no  right.  His  humility  was  so  great,  and  in  such 
constant  action,  that  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  no 
sort  of  right  to  claim  any  special  consideration,  and 
that  it  was  not  reasonable  to  expect  that  people 
would  cai-e  about  him  ;  consequently,  when  he 
found  that  he  was  beloved  by  any  one,  it  came  on 
him  as  an  agreeable  surprise,  and  he  accepted  the 
distinction  with  gratitude  and  thankfulness,  even  if 
it  so  happened  that  he  was  not  able  wholly  to  return 
the  affection  in  kind.  If  he  fancied  that  he  was  dis- 
liked, he  acquiesced  good-humoredly  in  the  circum- 
stance, and  appeared  to  think  it  was  a  natural  thing 
that  it  should  be  so,  and  that  he  had  no  reason  to 
expect  it  would  be  otherwise. 

But  notwithstanding  this  humble  view  of  himself, 
Nugent  Hope  was  not  a  man  to  be  overlooked  in 
society,  still  less  to  be  disliked.  Manly,  intelligent, 
cultivated,  with  good  sound  judgment,  and  a  re- 
markable rapidity  of  thought,  which  enal)led  him  at 
once  to  perceive  and  combine  the  different  points  of 
an  argument,  and  its  bearings  for  and  against  a  sub- 
ject, his  opinion   always  carried   more  weight  with 


238 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


it  than  that  of  most  young  men.  At  college  he 
had  been  constantly  turned  to,  in  difficult  cases,  as 
umpire,  and  at  home,  even  from  childhood,  what 
Nugent  decided  seemed  always  to  satisfy  contend- 
ing parties,  for  all  knew  him  to  be  both  clear- 
headed and  just. 

Mr.  Hope  was  proud  of  his  sons,  and,  indeed, 
few  fathers  had  better  reason  to  be  so,  and  he  was 
now  much  rejoiced  at  having  Everard,  who  had  just 
taken  his  degree,  and  finished  his  academical  studies, 
at  home  with  him  for  a  few  months. 


xxm. 

S:&ITCTIFIED  AFFLICTION* 

^^HERE  is  no  society  more  agreeable,  than  that 
v^y  in  which  a  few  families  and  individuals,  all  and 
each  of  whom  have  independent  pursuits, 
enough  to  keep  them  from  hanging  too  much  on 
others,  are  associated  in  close  and  affectionate  inti- 
macy. Such  was  the  little  band  of  friends  which 
met  so  frequently  at  the  Grange,  or  at  Mrs,  Eve- 
lyn's cottage.  The  Dormers  had  found  their  coun- 
try retreat  so  agreeable,  and  affording  so  many  ad' 
vantages,  that  Mrs.  Evelyn  had  thought  it  advisable 
to  take  a  small  furnished  house,  and  settle  perm.a- 
nently  at  Coombhurst  with  her  young  party,  who 
were  all  diligently  engaged  in  pursuing  their  studies, 
and  completing  their  education.  Gordon  Dormer 
had  finished  his  career  at  Addiscombe,  and  sailed  as 
a  cadet  to  India,  within  a  few  months  of  their  first 
arrival  in  the  village,  so  that  Mrs.  Evelyn  had  now 
only  her  four  girls  to  provide  for.  Nugent  Hope 
had  been  expecteil  to  return  home  in  the  course  of 
the  autumn,  but  had  been  detained  on  the  Continent, 


240  BLIND    LILIAS. 

consequently  the  two  families  remained  just  in  the 
t^ame  position  as  when  we  first  became  acquainted 
with  them,  with  the  exception  of  the  addition  of 
Everard  to  that  at  the  Grange,  and  Mi".  Gambler, 
as  the  daily  associate  and  friend  of  all. 

The  autumn  passed  pleasantly,  and  winter,  never 
very  severe  in  the  favored  climate  of  South  Devon, 
was  approaching.  But  winter  has  its  charms  as  well 
as  summer.  In  the  house,  there  are  the  bright  and 
cheerful  fires  which  enliven  our  English  rooms,  and 
the  pleasant  long  evenings,  in  which  all  are  gathered 
together  in  the  social  circle,  to  recount  and  chat  over 
the  events  of  the  day  and  the  plans  for  the  morrow 
and  to  enliven  themselves  and  each  other  with  some 
pleasant  occupation  or  amusement — work,  drawing, 
chess,  or  music.  Then  there  is  the  morning  walk 
in  the  clear  cold  air,  on  a  frosty  day,  when  eveiy 
cottage  and  out-house  roof  glitters  with  its  icy  coat- 
ing, and  the  long  rows  of  icicles,  which  fringe  every 
projecting  eave  and  gable,  on  which  the  sunbeams 
glisten,  until  they  look  like  thousands  of  diamonds. 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  walk  along  the  crisp  roads 
and  fields,  whilst  the  frost  hangs  in  the  air,  and 
keeps  all,  where  the  sunbeams  have  not  yet  reached, 
bound  in  icy  fetters ;  and  to  see  the  flocks  of  larks 
and  fieldfares,  of  finches,  and  linnets,  which  scared 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION.  241 

from  their  repast  of  hips  and  haws  by  your  ap- 
proach, spring  into  the  air  in  dense  flights,  and  set- 
tle on  the  next  bushes,  again  to  rise,  as  you  again 
approach  them,  and  I'cpeat  the  same  process  over 
and  over  again,  until  they  are  freed  from  your  in- 
trusion, by  some  turn  in  the  road  hiding  you  from 
them.  How  pleasant  it  is  too,  to  see  the  confiding 
little  robins  sit  and  carol  as  you  pass,  and  to  hear 
the  rook  caw  over-head,  as  it  w  ings  its  way  to  some 
spot  where  the  sunbeams  have  penetrated  the  earth, 
and  left  the  grubs  which  lie  beneath  the  surface  ac- 
cessible to  their  long  horny  beaks.  Then  there  are 
visits  to  the  cottages  to  be  made,  and  kindly  plans 
for  the  comfort  of  their  inhabitants  to  be  discussed, 
and  carried  into  effect.  And  all  these  things  tend 
as  much  to  intimacy,  and  have  in  them  as  much  of 
the  elements  of  enjoyment,  as  those  pleasant  sum- 
mer excursions  which  we  have  described.  So  it  was 
found  to  be  by  our  young  friends  at  the  Cottage 
and  at  the  Grange,  whose  friendship  daily  increased 
ill  warmth  and  closeness. 

Mr.  Gambler  was  a  thoroughly  industrious  and 
hard-working  man,  and  devoted  to  the  well-being 
of  his  parishioners ;  and  he  had  undertaken  to  initi- 
ate Everard  Hope,  who  was  preparing  for  holy 
orders,  into  the  duties  of  a  parish  priest,  by  as- 
21 


242  BLIND    LILIAS. 

sociating  him  with  himself  in  his  parochial  work  ; 
and  Everard,  whose  heart  was  deeply  mterested  in 
preparing  himself  to  fill  the  important  and  solemn 
office  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  was  very  thank- 
ful for  the  opportunity  of  working  under  the  auspices 
of  one  whom  he  so  thoroughly  loved  and  esteemed. 
The  greater  part  of  his  mornings  was,  therefore, 
passed  in  the  village  of  Coombhurst,  which  lay 
about  a  mile  from  the  Grange — that  honse  forming 
part  of  a  large  hamlet  belonging  to  the  parish.  He 
and  Mr.  Gambler  usually  read  divinity  together  for 
an  hour  or  two,  then  visited  the  poor  and  the  school 
until  about  two  o'clock,  and  after  taking  some  lunch- 
eon together,  they  generally  rode  or  walked  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  Mr.  Gambler  often  returned  with 
Everard  to  share  the  family  dinner  at  the  Grange, 
and  spend  as  many  of  the  evening  hours  there  as 
he  could  spare  from  other  duties. 

Lilias  and  Etnily  had  both  become  very  fond  of 
Mr.  Gambler,  but  the  former,  in  particular,  was 
deeply  attached  to  him,  and  he  was  exceedingly  in- 
terested in  the  little  blind  child.  Many  were  the 
grave  and  earnest  conversations  which  took  place 
between  them,  but  there  was  also  a  great  amount 
of  fun  and  playfulness  constantly  going  on.  Ever- 
ard was  devoted  to  his  little  sister,  and  often  might 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION.  243 

she  be  seen  mounted  on  her  pony,  Everard  leading 
it,  and  running  full  trot,  whilst  Mr.  Gambler  held 
her  hand  to  give  her  confidence,  and  kept  up  by  her 
side,  Neptune  and  Fata  and  half  a  dozen  other  dogs 
chasing  after  and  round  them,  whilst  Emily  and 
Blanche  vainly  tried  to  keep  pace,  and  failing  in 
doing  so,  cut  across  and  met  them  at  diverse  points. 
Sometimes  Emily  got  a  ride,  and  sometimes  Blanche, 
and  Lilias  showed  the  improvement  that  was  go- 
ing on  in  her  character  by  often  voluntarily  check- 
ing her  pace  and  making  one  or  other  of  them  take 
her  phice  on  the  pony — an  eflbrt  of  self-denial  which 
in  former  months  she  would  not  have  thought  of 
making ;  and,  indeed,  it  was  a  great  effort,  for  she 
was  always  so  highly  exhilarated  and  pleased  by 
the  exercise  and  the  proximity  of  her  "  dear  Mr. 
Gambler  "  and  her  favorite  and  merry  brother,  that 
there  was  no  one  thing  that  afforded  the  poor  little 
girl  so  much  delight  as  one  of  these  wild  gallops 
round  and  round  the  field  and  grounds.  She  had  be- 
come so  fearless,  that  the  guardian  hand  which  had 
at  first  been  the  only  tiling  that  would  induce  her 
to  venture  out  of  a  walk  was  no  longer  needed  ; 
but  she  liked  to  have  her  friend  so  near,  and  he 
loved  the  child  so  well,  that  he  still  continued  the 
attendance,  and  he  was  so  fleet  of  foot,  and  of  such 


244  BLIND    LILIAS. 

vigor,  that  he  never  got  tired  or  out  of  breath  with 
the  exercise. 

Mr.  Gambier  had  a  deep  insight  into  character, 
and  so  much  tenderness  and  tact,  combined  with 
such  firmness  and  sound  judgment,  as  was  likely  to 
lead  to  confidence,  and  Lilias's  in  him  was  unbound- 
ed. She  never  said  much  on  the  inner  thoughts  of 
her  little  heart,  unless  to  some  one  or  two  :  to  her 
father  and  to  Maud,  if  she  was  quite  alone  with 
them,  she  would  pour  out  all  her  thoughts  and 
feelings,  and  show  all  the  workings  of  her  sensitive 
conscience  and  peculiar  mind,  without  restraint,  but 
hitherto  to  no  one  else.  Mrs.  Evelyn  and  Meta, 
dearly  as  she  loved  them,  and  earnestly  as  she 
sought  their  friendship,  had  not  been  able  to  find 
the  key  to  the  secret  chamber  of  her  heart ;  she  was 
reserved  and  restrained  on  such  points  even  to  them ; 
but  to  Mr,  Gambier  it  was  not  so.  At  once,  and 
very  early  in  their  intercourse,  the  child  talked  easily 
to  him,  and  when  he  found  her  alone,  she  would 
nestle  in  close  by  his  side,  and  converse  with  him 
with  freedom  and  earnestness,  on  points  which  were 
never  discussed  with  others,  and  lay  open  her  heart 
to  him  with  a  sweet  and  rare  confidence  that  he 
greatly  prized. 

"  What  is  my  little  linnet  thinking  of  so  earnest- 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION.  245 

ly  f  said  he  one  day,  when  he  found  her  seated 
alone  by  the  fire,  and  so  lost  in  thought  that  she 
did  not  notice  his  approach. 

'•  Oh,  dear  Mr.  Gambler,  is  that  you  V  she  re- 
plied; "  I  am  so  glad — I  was  thinking  about  lives, 
and  blind  people,  and  having  fellowship  with  God, 
and  I  am  puzzled,  and  I  should  like  to  talk  with  you 
about  it." 

"  Well,  Lily,  you  have  a  large  subject,  or  rather 
several  large  subjects,"  he  replied,  sitting  down  by 
her.     "  Tell  me,  first,  what  you  mean  by  '  lives.''  " 

"  Why,  I  mean  people's  lives.  I  think  the  peo- 
ple who  live  on  earth  should  do  as  blind  people  are 
obliged  to  do  ;  now  I  do  not  quite  know  how  to  ex- 
plain what  I  mean,  but  it  is  something  like  this  : 
you  know  when  you  came  and  found  me  at  Berry 
Head  r 

"  Yes,  Lily,  I  perfectly  remember." 

"  Well ;  I  was  sitting  quite  still,  I  did  not  know 
where  I  was,  or  how  I  should  get  away.  I  dare  not 
move  one  step  for  fear  I  should  fall  over  some  of 
these  places  I  had  heard  them  speak  of  as  we  pass- 
ed. I  was  safe  at  the  minute,  and  obliged  to  wait 
till  some  one  came  to  find  me.  So  then  I  asked 
God  to  send  some  one,  and  you  came.  I  did  not 
know  you,  but  T  just  told  you  what  I  wanted,  and 
21* 


246  BLIND    LILIA8. 

you  said  you  would  assist  and  lead  me  to  my  friends, 
and  you  took  me  and  turned  me  round  a  different 
way  from  what  I  had  fancied  you  would  go,  and 
you  led  me  over  some  rough  place,  and  then  you 
said,  '  Now  I  must  can-y  you  a  little  way,'  and  then 
you  let  me  walk  again,  and  then  you  said,  '  Sit  down 
here,  and  I  will  come  back  in  a  minute,'  and  you 
seated  me  on  a  stone  and  ran  away ;  but  it  never 
came  into  my  head  to  doubt  that  you  would  come 
back,  or  to  think  you  did  not  take  me  in  the  best 
way,  or  to  ask  why  you  let  me  walk  in  one  place 
and  not  in  another  !  " 

"  All  true,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Gambler ;  "  but  go 
oil,  and  tell  me  all  you  were  thinking." 

"  Well,  then,  I  thought,  I  am  having  fellowship 
with  this  kind  gentleman ;  I  am  letting  him  deliver 
me  as  he  thinks  best ;  I  should  have  thought  he 
would  have  left  me  where  I  was,  and  gone  to  look 
for  papa,  and  sent  some  of  them  to  me,  but  he 
would  not  have  taken  all  this  trouble  and  carried  a 
heavy  girl  like  me,  and  done  all  he  is  doing  without 
a  good  reason,  and  so  all  you  did  I  liked,  and  I  felt 
a  sort  of  pleasure  that  you  should  manage  it  all 
your  own  way.'' 

"  Well,  my  child,  and  what  then  V 

"  Why,  then,  I  thought,  and  I  have  thought  about 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION.  247 

it  a  great  deal  since,  that  it  uas  like  what  papa  had 
been  saying  to  me  about  our  having  fellowship  with 
God — something  the  same  as  you  preached  once, 
you  know — it  was  your  firr^t  Sunday.  He  read  me 
a  little  paper  one  day,  and  it  was  on  the  text,  '  Tliat 
we  might  be  partakers  of  His  holiness'  (God's,  you 
know),  and  he  said  the  way  to  become  so  was  to 
'  cultivate  fellowship  with  God  in  His  designs,'  and 
try  to  understand  the  way  in  which  God's  every- 
day dealings  with  us  may  most  thoroughly  work  in 
us,  to  lead  us  to  that  holiness,  so  that  if  we  would 
be  holy,  we  must  give  ourselves  up  to  God,  and 
not  only  do  the  things  wliich  He  bids  us,  but  do 
them  in  the  way  that  He  bids  us,  and  let  Him  do 
all  He  likes  with  us ;  the  same  as  I  let  you  lead 
me,  and  carry  me,  and  set  me  down,  and  never 
said,  '  Why  do  you  do  that  V  And  so  I  think  if 
the  lives  of  all  people,  from  beginning  to  end,  were 
like  that  of  a  blind  person — I  mean,  if  we  all  gave 
our  lives  and  souls  up  to  God  to  be  led  and  guided 
by  His  Spirit,  as  a  blind  girl  is  obliged  to  give  her- 
self up  to  some  friend  to  guide  her  steps,  we  should 
all  be  so  safe  and  happy.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Gambicr  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  do  indeed.     Now,  dear  Lily,  that 


248  IJLIND    LILIAS. 

confidence  you  felt  in  me  was  faith — you  had  faith 
in  me," 

"  Faith  in  you,  Mr.  Gambier  !  No  ;  I  had  faith 
in  God." 

"  Yes,  first  in  God ;  you  prayed  to  Him  that  He 
would  deliver  you,  and  were  at  rest  in  the  quiet 
assurance  that  He  would  do  so ;  then  I  eame,  and 
your  faith  in  God  led  you  to  believe  that  He  had 
sent  me.  But  then  you  had  faith  in  we,  that  is, 
you  believed  that  I  should  lead  you,  not  only  to  the 
place  and  the  friends  you  wished  to  reach,  but  that 
I  should  take,  you  by  the  best  and  straightest  way 
to  them.  Faith  is  belief.  Faith  is  the  same  prin- 
ciple whether  it  acts  on  one  object  or  on  another. 
You  may  have  faith  in  a  foolish  superstitious  charm, 
or  you  may  have  faith  in  God.  Faith  is  a  firm 
belief  that  a  thing  is  what  it  professes  to  be,  and  so 
you  believed  that  I  was  a  friend  who  could  see,  and 
would  lead  you  right." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gambier,  I  understand  now.  Then, 
if  we  have  faith,  real,  true  faith  in  God,  we  should 
give  ourselves  up  to  Him  and  try  to  consent  to  all 
He  does  and  wills  V 

'•  Just  so,  dear ;  the  love  that  leads  us  to  like 
that  God  should  do  His  will  in  His  own  way,  and 
to  acquiesce  in  His  will,  and  His  way  of  working 


i' 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION.  249 

in  and  for  us,  will  follow  on  faith.  If  we  believe 
that  God  in  Christ  is  altogether  lovely,  that  He  is 
love  itself— if  we  can  truly  feel,  '  Thy  nature  and 
Thy  name  is  love,'  how  can  we  help  loving  that 
which  is  love?  And  then,  if  we  love  God,  we  shall, 
as  you  say  you  did  with  me,  '  feel  a  sort  of  pleas- 
ure in  His  doing  it  all  His  own  way.'  '' 

"  Yes  ;  and  that  is  what  I  am  trying  to  do  ;  I  am 
trying  to  like  to  be  blind,  and  the  way  I  do  it  is  to 
think,  '  God  loves  me,  and  of  course  if  He  loves 
poor  little  blind  me,  I  shall  not  wish  not  to  be 
blind.  He  made  me  so,  and  He  could  open  my 
eyes  if  He  liked,  and  if  He  does  not,  it  must  be 
best."  And  besides,  Mr..  Gambler,  I  did  not  love 
God  before  I  was  blind,  and  now  I  do,  and  so  it 
shows  that  it  is  best." 

" '  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted,' 
has  been  the  language  of  God's  people  in  all  ages, 
and  you  will  not  find  it  otherwise,  my  little  Lilias," 
replied  Mr.  Gambier.  "  But  now,  my  child,  I  have 
fiiUen  into  talk  with  you,  and  there  are  Evra,  and 
the  girls,  and  the  pony,  all  waiting,  and  I  promised 
to  bring  you  to  them,  and  I  shall  surely  get  a  scold- 
ing ;  so  make  haste,  and  get  on  your  bonnet  and 
pelisse,  darling." 

"  Oh,  what  pleasure  I  have  !"  said  Lilias.     "  Do 


250  BLIND    LILIA8. 

not  you  think  these  pleasant  things  are  what  is 
meant  by  '  the  loving-kindness,'  of  God  1  I  do," 
said  she ;  and  as  nurse,  who  had  been  summoned, 
appeared  to  lead  her  to  the  nursery,  and  prepare 
her  for  her  ride,  she  sprang  up,  and  jumped,  and 
clapped  her  hands  as  she  danced  away,  with  as 
much  childish  glee  as  if  no  such  affliction  as  blind- 
ness lay  on  her,  and  no  such  serious  thoughts  had 
been  under  discussion. 

Surely  a  thankful  heart  that  can  discern  God's 
hand  in  all  things,  and  sees  a  Father's  love  in  all 
events,  has  a  greater  amount  of  enjoyment  than 
any  other.  To  such  a  heart  a  very  small  and 
simple  pleasure  will  give  greater  delight  than  the 
wealth  and  treasures  of  a  world,  to  one  who  has  no 
such  spring  of  happiness. 

"  My  God,  the  spring  of  all  my  joys^ 
The  life  of  my  delights, 
The  glory  of  my  brightest  days, 
And  comfort  of  my  nights !" 


XXIV. 

THE  SCHOOL  FESTIVAL. 

^J^^^EEKS  passed  on,  and  Christmas  drew  near. 
'^V    Vernon  and   Edward  were  again  at  home, 
and  all  were  full  of  fun  and  frolic,  holiday 
and  pleasure. 

It  was  with  groat  satisfaction  and  delight,  that 
Mr.  Hope  observed  a  growing  attachment  between 
Evenud  and  Margaret  Dormer.  He  was  well 
pleased  that  his  son  should  obtain  the  steadying  in- 
fluence that  a  matrimonial  engagement  in  many 
cases  supplies  ;  and  that  he  should  secure  for  his 
wife  such  a  girl  as  Meta,  so  endeared  to  them  all, 
and  so  justly  deserving  their  love,  was  indeed  a 
thing  to  be  greatly  desired.  It  would  be  necessary 
that  they  should  wait  a  couple  of  years  before  they 
married,  as  until  Meta  was  of  age,  and  would  re- 
ceive her  fortune,  and  Everard  was  in  priest's 
orders,  and  had  taken  possession  of  a  living  that 
was  to  be  his,  they  would  have  no  means  of  estab- 
lishing themselves  in  life ;  but  a  period  of  two 
years  at  nineteen  and  twenty-three  is  not  much, 


252  BLIND    LILIAS. 

and  as  their  relative  homes  were  so  near  that  they 
could  often  meet,  the  young  people  were  not  de- 
pressed by  the  prospect.  Everard  was  devoted  to 
Meta,  and  she  to  him,  and  the  girls  were  all  de- 
lighted to  find  that  Meta  was  to  be  their  sister. 

One  morning,  as  Christmas  drew  near,  Mr.  Gam- 
bier  made  his  appearance  just  as  the  family  at  the 
Grange  had  sat  down  to  breakfast,  and  willingly 
consenting  to  the  urgent  invitation  of  all  combined 
that  he  would  share  their  meal,  he  took  his  place, 
and  opened  the  special  business  on  which  he  had 
come  so  early.  It  was  to  announce  that  his  school- 
treat  and  distribution  of  prizes  was  fixed  for  the 
next  day  but  one,  and  to  invite  Mr.  Hope  and  all 
his  party  to  attend,  saying  that  he  had  just  secured 
Mrs.  Evelyn  and  the  Dormers,  at  whose  house  he 
had  left  Everard,  who  was  going  to  walk  with 
Meta,  and  bring  her  back  to  the  Grange  for  the 
rest  of  the  day. 

Mr.  Gambler's  festival  was  no  new  idea  to  the 
party,  only  the  day  had  not  been  quite  fixed.  It 
was  to  be  an  evening  treat,  in  a  nice  new  school- 
room, that  hu  had  begun  on  his  first  coming  to  the 
village.  It  had  been  well  aired  and  warmed,  and 
he  had  left  the  opening  festival  until  this  season,  in- 
tending to  combine  the  distribution  of  school  prizes 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  258 

and  that  of  the  women's  benefit  clothhig  club. 
There  was  to  be  a  huge  Christmas  tree,  and  Lilias 
and  her  young  friends  had  been  delighting  them- 
selves in  preparing  all  sorts  of  little  things  to  dress 
it.  The  whole  was  to  conclude  with  a  tea-drinking 
to  which  all  those  children  who  had  been  regular 
and  punctual  in  attendance  had  leave  to  bring  one 
other  member  of  their  family.  It  had  been  decided 
that  the  day  should  not  be  fixed  until  fine  and  mild 
weather,  giving  promise  of  some  continuance,  should 
come,  so  that  the  guests,  young  and  old,  might  not 
be  injured  by  going  out  in  the  evening.  Such  a 
time  had  now  arrived.  For  two  days  it  had  been 
clear  and  dry,  with  a  mild  wind,  the  I'oads  and  lanes 
were  free  from  mud,  and  the  air  soft  and  pleasant ; 
and  as  there  was  every  probability  that  such  weather 
would  continue  for  some  little  time,  the  day  had 
been  at  last  fixed,  and  preparations  on  a  large  scale 
had  begun. 

Lilias  had  entered  the  room  whilst  Mr.  Gambler 
was  talking,  and  now  eagerly  exclaimed.  "Oh,  Mr. 
Gambier,  you  said  Emily  and  Blanche  and  I  should 
come,  and  help  you  dress  up  the  room.  May  we 
come  ?  do  let  us." 

'•  That  is  part  of  my  errand  to  papa,  Lily.  May 
they  come — at  least  may  Lily,  Mr.  Hopel     Mrs. 


254  BLIND    LILIAS, 

Evelyn  has  promised  for  the  others,  and  I  am  to 
drive  over  to  fetch  them  all  at  nine  o'clock,  the  day- 
after  to-morrow.  Perhaps  you  will  let  nurse  come 
too,  as  you  know  I  have  no  proper  attendant  for 
little  ladies ;  and  I  shall  get  farmer  Crooks'  cart 
sent  over  early  (hat  morning,  for  that  load  of  ever- 
greens and  berries  you  proinisjd  me.  Our  Christ- 
mas tree  will  be  splendid,  for  one  of  the  men  has 
brought  me  a  holly,  all  laden  with  the  best  kind  of 
berries,  and  twelve  feet  high,  and  its  glittering  var- 
nished leaves,  and  bunches  of  red  berries  will  make  a 
most  brilliant  spectacle  when  lighted  up.  The  sharp 
thorns,  or  rather  spikes  on  the  leaves,  are  so  strong 
and  large,  that  we  are  going  to  stick  some  of  Mr. 
Groves'  fine  ruddy  apples,  of  whi  )h  he  has  sent  us 
a  great  bag  full,  all  about  the  tree.  But  I  must 
not  stay,"  added  he,  "  I  have  a  great  deal  to  do,  and 
but  little  time  to  do  it,  and  at  nine  o'clock  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  God  willing,  I  shall  be  at  the  door 
to  pick  up  Mrs.  Nurse  and  Lilias  ;"  and  with  hasty 
good-byes,  he  left  them  all  in  high  glee  at  the  antic- 
ipated pleasure,  and  mounting  his  horse,  rode  off- at 
full  gallop. 

The  morning  of  the  appointed  day  was  most 
auspicious— a  pleasant  combination  of  clearness  of 
atmosphere  with  softness  of  temperature,  that  held 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  255 

out  every  hope  of  an  unusually  genial  day.  Lilias, 
■who  had  been  almost  too  much  excited  for  sleep  or 
food,  could  scarcely  be  kept  steady  long  enough  to 
eat  a  proper  breakfast,  so  eager  was  she  lest  she 
should  not  be  quite  ready  when  her  friend's  carriage 
came.  As  it  was,  she  was  cloaked  and  bonneted  full 
half  an  hour  before  the  appointed  time,  and  accused 
Mr.  Gambier  of  being  quite  late,  when,  as  the  hall 
ciock  struck  nine,  he  drove  up  with  Emily  and 
Bhmche  already  packed,  into  the  carriage.  Nurse 
and  Blanche  were  to  occupy  the  back  seat,  whilst 
Lily  and  Emily,  delighted  with  the  crowding  which 
so  many  people  and  so  many  cloaks  made  in  the 
carriage,  were  vociferous  with  pleasure,  and  wrap- 
ped their  arms  as  closely  as  possible  round  each 
other,  as  they  said,  "  to  give  Mr.  Gambier  a  chance 
of  sitting  down  in  his  seat." 

Luckily  they  had  not  to  pass  many  habitations, 
for  the  spirits  of  the  children  could  not  be  kept 
down,  and  as  the  boys  insisted  on  running,  one  at 
each  pony's  head,  and  laughing  and  chattering  all 
the  way,  there  was  no  small  amount  of  noise.  All 
had  breakfasted,  and  Mr.  Gambier  therefore  set 
down  his  load  at  the  school-room,  and  promised  to 
return  as  soon  as  he  had  put  up  the  ponies ;  and  the 
boys,  having  taken  the  vacant  places  in  the  carriage 


250  BLIND    LILIAS. 

for  the  fun  of  the  drive,  entreated  so  earnestly  to 
be  allowed  to  stay  and  help  in  the  preparations,  that 
on  their  promise  of  being  eminently  useful,  and  not 
teasing  the  girls  in  the  least  degree,  they  were  prom- 
ised a  share  of  the  sort  of  picnic  dinner  that  the 
workers  were  to  eat  in  the  school-master's  kitchen  ; 
and  as  soon  as  possible,  the  whole  party  returned 
laden  with  baskets  of  flowers,  evergreens,  cakes, 
and  apples,  that  had  arrived  from  all  the  neighbors 
round,  and  all  set  to  work  in  good  style. 

There  were  the  wreaths  to  be  made  for  the  ends 
and  sides  of  the  room,  for  the  schoolmaster's  desk, 
and  for  every  other  place  where  it  was  possible  to 
hang  them.  The  Christmas  tree  was  to  be  fixed, 
and  the  prizes  and  club  articles  arranged  before  din- 
ner. Afterwards  all  the  rest  of  the  Hope  and  Dor- 
mer families  were  to  join  the  party,  and  then  the 
beautiful  holly  was  to  be  decorated  with  the  little 
things  which  had  so  long  been  in  preparation  for  it. 

Poor  Lilias  sadly  felt  her  want  of  sight.  As  the 
others  shouted  out  their  admiration  of  each  effect 
that  was  produced,  and  called  on  each  other,  and 
sometimes  even,  in  the  forgetfulness  of  the  moment, 
on  her,  to  "look  at  this!"  and  "  Oh,  do  look  at 
that!"  her  spirits  sank,  and  she  felt  much  inclined 
to  cry ;  but  she  conquered  herself,  and  tried  to  be 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  257 

busy  and  interested  in  weaving  the  wreaths,  which 
she  could  do  very  well. 

"  Lily,  will  you  come  and  make  this  wreath  for 
mel"  said  Edward,  just  as  the  poor  child  began  to 
feel  sadly  depressed.  "  I  cannot  do  it,  and  yours 
that  you  made  for  Mr.  Gambler  just  now  is  prettier 
than  any  otlier  in  the  room.  Do  come,  dear  ;"  and 
Lilias,  cheered  by  the  kind  word  so  aptly  said, 
brightened  up,  and  sitting  down  on  a  low  stool,  be- 
gan to  arrange  the  lauruslinas  and  bright  berries  as 
skilfully  as  if  she  could  see  their  varying  forms  and 
hues  ;  and  as  Edward  picked  out  and  handed  to  her 
the  different  kinds,  and  gave  her  bits  of  string  to 
tie  them,  and  thanked  his  "'  darling,  kind,  clever 
Lily  "  over  and  over  again,  her  spirits  rose,  and  she 
was  as  merry  as  a  bird. 

It  was  a  happy  morning  and  a  busy  one.  Work 
proceeded  rapidly,  and  by  one  o'clock  the  room  was 
gaily  wreathed  with  bright  evergreens  and  colored 
flowers  and  berries,  the  Christmas  tree  firmly 
planted  in  a  huge  barrel,  the  top  of  which  was  cov- 
ered with  mould  to  look  like  a  large  pot,  and  the 
loom  well  swept  up  in  readiness  for  the  next  act. 
Then  ensued  a  washing  of  hands  and  brushing  of 
hair  under  nurse's  auspices,  and  then  all  the  party 
adjourned  to  the  clean  new  kitchen,  witli  its  sanded 


258  BLIND    LILIAS. 

floor  and  pretty  casernented  windows,  where  dinner 
consisting  of  a  good  piece  of  cold  roast  beef,  and 
plenty  of  apple-pie  and  cream,  mince-pies,  and  a 
grand  hot  plum-pudding,  stood  ready  for  the  hungry 
and  very  merry  party. 

Six  of  the  best  school  children  had  been  allowed 
the  pleasure  of  helping  in  the  arrangements,  and 
they  were  now  to  wait  on  the  little  party  whilst 
they  dined,  and  then  to  sit  down  with  nurse  and  the 
other  servants  and  share  the  remainder  of  the  feast. 
At  half-past  two  o'clock  came  Everard  and  Meta, 
then  Mrs.  Evelyn,  Mr.  Hope,  Maud,  Mabel,  and 
Rose  soon  after ;  and  on  their  arrival  the  tree  was 
to  be  dressed,  the  prizes  arranged  according  to  the 
classes,  and  the  club  goods  all  ticlvcted,  so  that  there 
was  abundance  of  work  to  be  done  in  a  little  time, 
as  the  children  and  their  friends  were  to  be  admit- 
ted at  half-past  four. 

But  of  all  this  there  was  nothing  that  our  little 
blind  girl  could  do  ;  so,  after  trying  in  vain  to  keep 
out  of  the  way  of  the  busy  people  who  were  run- 
ning hither  and  thither,  she  went  and  sat  down  in 
the  kitchen,  which  was  now  empty,  and  in  truth  ran 
a  great  risk  of  becoming  doleful  if  not  unhappy  ; 
for  it  is  not  easy,  when  all  around  are  busy  and 
happy,  and  after  the  spirits  have  been  raised  to  an 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  259 

unusual  height,  at  once  to  sit  down  in  stilhiess 
amidst  a  bustle  that  we  cannot  share,  and  yet  be 
cheerful  and  contented.  Poor  Lilias  did  try  to  beai- 
it ;  but  she  felt  it  hard  and  sad  to  sit  there  in  her 
solitude  and  darkness,  uuthought  of,  and  as  it  were 
uncarcd  for,  and  her  little  heart  could  scarcely  en- 
dure the  struggle. 

But  help  was  at  hand.  Just  as  she  was  on  the 
point  of  yielding  to  her  tears,  a  pleasant,  dear  voice 
sounded  in  her  ears  :  "  Why,  my  little  linnet,  I  had 
lost  you,  and  I  want  you  so  much.  I  have  some- 
thing for  you  to  do  for  mo.  Here,  dear,  are  two 
nice  little  girls,  little  twin  children,  Lily,  just  ten 
years  old,  who  have  so  lately  come  to  the  parish 
that  they  do  not  know  our  Christmas  hymns,  and 
it  will  break  their  hearts  not  to  sing  to-night,  for 
they  are  both  little  singing  birds.  Do  you  think 
you  could  teach  them  the  tunes  V 

"  Oh  yes,  dear  Mr.  Gambier,"  said  Lily ;  "  at 
least  I  can  try,  and  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  have  some- 
thing to  do." 

"  Then  come  in,  little  maidens,"  said  he,  leading 
two  clean,  bright-looking  children  towards  the  fire. 
"  There,  take  off  your  bonnets  and  sit  down  by  the 
111  arth,  and  this  little  lady  will  teach  you  tlie  hymns. 
Agnes  and  Grace  Burton  arc  their  names,  Lily  ;  so 


260  BLIND    LILIA8. 

now  set  to  work,  and  try  how  well  you  can  accom- 
plish your  task." 

Lilias  felt  rather  shy  in  beginning  her  task  of 
teaching  the  little  girls,  but  the  feeling  soon  went 
oft'  her.  She  was  too  much  accustomed  to  singing 
to  care  long  for  the  presence  of  strangers.  She 
had  a  most  tuneful  and  exquisite  voice,  and  that 
pure,  lovely  taste  so  seldom  bestowed,  but  which 
gives  a  far  greater  charm  to  singing  than  any  that 
the  best  of  masters  can  impart.  Music  was  a  pas- 
sion with  her,  especially  vocal  music  ;  and  now  was 
she  charmed  to  find  in  these  two  village  children  a 
power  almost  if  not  quite  equal  to  her  own.  She 
sang  the  air  of  the  first  hymn  once  over,  and  then 
said,  '•  Now,  try  and  ^ing  it  with  me."  The  little 
girls  began ;  one  instantly  dropped  into  a  rich 
second,  the  other  sang  with  Lilias,  and  scarcely  in 
a  note  did  either  err  throughout  the  strain. 

"  Why,  you  know  it,"  said  the  little  teacher. 

"  No,  miss,"  said  one  of  the  little  girls,  "  we 
never  heard  it  before — did  we,  Grace  ?" 

"But  who  has  taught  you  to  sing  a  second  so 
nicely  ?"  asked  Lilias. 

"  I  don't  know,  miss — I  don't  know  what  you 
mean.  Agnes  and  I  always  sing  like  that,  it  comes 
easiest,  and  we  like  it.     Father  used  to  sing  in  the 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  261 

cathedral,  and  so  did  my  brothers  when  they  wore 
alive — in  parts,  they  called  it." 

"Then  now,  sing  again,"  said  Lily,  enthusiasti- 
cally ;  "  it's  beautiful — it's  like  angels'  singing — I 
never  heard  anything  so  sweet ;"  and  lifting  up  her 
own  most  powerful  and  lovely  voice,  she  again 
began  the  hymn,  her  little  pupils,  now  well  accus- 
tomed to  the  notes,  joining  her  with  the  most  melo- 
dious young  voices,  and  with  as  much  energy  as 
herself  So  they  went  on ;  Lily  taught  them  the 
second  hymn,  and  then  asked  them  if  they  could 
chant,  and  learning  that  they  could,  they  sang  the 
Te  Dcum  and  Jubilate,  and  then  one  psalm  and  then 
another,  until,  in  their  mutual  delight,  they  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  everything  but  singing,  and  were 
so  taken  up  with  it,  that  none  of  them  cither  saw 
or  heard  that  a  whole  group  of  people  had  gathered 
in  the  shadow  of  the  door-way  to  listen.  It  was, 
however,  time  to  expect  the  little  guests,  and  Mr. 
Gambler  making  the  listeners  withdraw,  himself 
came  forward  into  the  kitchen  and  stopped  the 
concert. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Gambler,"  said  Lily,  eagerly,  "  they 
do  sing  so  beautifully,  they  have  such  lovely  voices, 
and  their  ear  is  as  true  as  possible.     It.  has  been 


262  BLIND    LILIAS. 

such  a  treat  to  teach  them,  but  they  knew  the  tunes 
in  a  minute.     I  wish  you  could  hear  them." 

"  I  have  heard  them,  dear.  Both  you  and  they 
must  remember,  dear  Lilias,  that  all  gifts  are  from 
God,  and  that  if  He  has  given  to  you  or  to  them  a 
power  of  singing,  it  is  not  that  you  may  be  vain 
of  it,  or  praise  and  flatter  each  other,  but  that  you 
may  use  it  to  praise  Him  who  has  bestowed  it  on 
you.  It  is  no  more  credit  to  you  to  have  good  ears 
and  good  voices  than  it  is  to  me  to  have  good  eyes 
and  good  hearing ;"  and,  so  saying,  he  led  the  three 
little  musicians  to  their  respective  seats,  placing 
Lilias  next  her  father,  and  little  Grace  and  Agnes 
by  their  widowed  mother,  whom  Mr.  Gambler  had 
invited  as  his  own  particular  guest,  seeing  that  her 
little  girls  had  not  been  long  enough  in  the  school 
to  give  them  a  right  to  bring  her,  but  that  neither 
she  nor  they  would  be  quite  happy  if  she  did  not 
share  their  pleasure. 

It  was  altogether  a  pleasant  scene ;  the  groups  of 
happy  children,  rapturous  with  delight  at  the  sight 
of  the  brilliant  Christmas  tree,  laden  with  such 
fruits  as  hollies  do  not  usually  bear,  and  of  which 
they  were  to  be  the  joyful  owners,  and  the  gratified 
looks  of  the  parents  and  relatives  of  the  little  ones, 
were  all  well  in  accordance  with  die  i-uddy  flames 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  263 

of  the  fine  ashen  fagots,  which,  in  pursuance  of  an 
old  west-country  fashion,  snapped  and  cracked  on 
the  hearth  (for  the  room  was  not  as  yet  quite  com- 
plete, and  the  stove  had  not  been  placed),  and  with 
the  bright  light  which  illuminated  the  room.  Tea 
was  made  in  the  kitchen  in  great  tea-kettles,  and 
jioured  into  the  cups,  of  which  the  little  ones  had 
each  brought  one,  and  large  slices  of  cake  were 
given  out  by  the  children  and  young  ladies  who 
waited  on  the  little  scholars ;  and  greatly  was  the 
whole  enjoyed.  There  were  several  of  the  neigh- 
boring clergymen  and  their  wives  and  daughters 
present ;  amongst  the  rest  the  little  Brights  and 
Scotts,  for  whom  Mr.  Gambler  was  to  provide  tea 
when  the  rural  part  of  the  assembly  had  departed, 
so  that,  besides  the  other  enjoyments  of  the  day,  the 
families  from  the  Grange  and  Cliff  Cottage  had  the 
pleasure  of  a  social  chat  with  several  of  their  old 
friends  and  allies.  After  the  tea,  and  before  the 
distribution  of  prizes  began,  Mr.  Ganibier  spoke  a 
few  affectionate  and  well-considered  words  of  advice 
to  all,  and  of  commendation  to  those  who  deserved 
it,  and  then  proposed  that  all  should  join  in  singing 
the  good  old  Christmas  hymn,  "  While  shepherds 
watched  their  flocks  by  night,"  which  was  done  with 
capital  oflrct,  nr.d  with  great  pleasure  l)oth  to  sing- 


264  BLIND    LILIAS. 

ers  and  listeners,  for  the  children  had  been  well 
taught,  and  they  were  strengthened  and  supported 
by  the  many  sweet,  and  powerful,  and  well-trained 
voices  of  the  Hopes  and  Dormers,  all  of  whom  were 
so  highly  musical.  Lily's  little  pupils  acquitted 
themselves  much  to  her  satisfaction,  and  after  the 
singing  was  over,  Mr,  Hope  asked  them  a  few 
questions,  and  was  much  pleased  with  their  answers, 
so  much  so  that  he  agreed  that  when  the  spring 
came  on  they  should  be  allowed  to  come  once  in 
every  week  to  his  house  to  sing  with  Lily,  and  re- 
ceive from  her  and  her  sisters  such  instruction  as 
might  be  of  service  to  them  ;  but  it  was  only  on 
condition  that  his  little  girl  should  carefully  avoid 
over-praise  and  flattery,  and  try  to  give  them  such 
teaching  as  might  have  a  tendency  to  steady  their 
minds,  and  counteract  the  evils  which  were  likely 
to  ensue  to  two  children  in  their  position  of  life, 
from  so  great  a  gift  of  music  as  these  little  creatures 
possessed. 

It  was  a  bright  full-moonlight  evening,  and  as  the 
carriage  could  not  conveniently  take  all,  it  was 
agreed  that  Mr.  Hope  with  his  two  eldest  girls, 
Meta,  Everard,  and  Rosalie,  should  walk  home, 
and  his  other  guests  having  all  departed,  Mr.  Gam- 


THE    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL.  265 

bier  proposed  going  part  of  the  way  with  them  ; 
and  they  all  accordingly  walked  together,  pleas- 
i  antly  chatting  over  the  events  of  the  day  until 
a  turning  which  led  round  to  his  lodgings  separa- 
ted them. 

23 


>.<!* 


XXV. 

fHE  next  day  brought  new  pleasures  for  Lilias. 
Gertrude,  Johnny,  and  Josephine  were  to 
come  and  spend  some  days — they  were  to 
stay  over  Christmas  ;  and  when  they  went,  Mr, 
Frasei",  the  late  Mrs.  Hope's  father,  with  two  of  his 
grand-daughters,  was  to  come  fur  some  weeks. 
Gertrude  was  so  grown  and  improved,  that  the 
girls  said  they  should  have  scarcely  known  her. 
She  had  been  for  more  than  a  year  on  the  Continent, 
with  her  uncle  and  aunt  D'Urban  and  their  children, 
and  had  so  lately  returned  that  she  and  Lilias  had 
not  met  since  Lily's  blindness.  Great  changes  had 
also  taken  place  in  the  other  children.  Johnny  had 
been  at  school  in  Germany,  and  Josephine  also  ; 
they  were  now  nearly  eleven  years  old,  and  Ger- 
trude nearly  fourteen,  and  an  entire  change  had  taken 
place  in  their  amusements  and  employments.  They 
all  spoke  French  and  German,  and  great  was  the 
delight  of  the  little  Dormers  to  talk  with  them  of 
the  different  things  and  places  that  they  so  well  re- 


SADNESS    AND    SYMPATHY.  267 

membered.  Lilias  had  picked  up  a  good  deal  of 
German  in  her  intercourse  with  Emily  and  the  oth- 
ers ;  she  had  made  Emily  teach  her  sentences,  and 
Meta  had  done  all  she  could,  by  reading  to  her  and 
repeating  verbs,  declensions,  etc,  until  she  knew 
them,  to  give  her  some  ideas  of  the  construction  of 
the  language ;  consequently,  she  could  generally  un- 
derstand at  least  a  part  of  what  was  said  when  the 
Dormers  talked  with  Gertrude  and  the  D'Urbans, 
and  could  even  sometimes  speak  a  little  herself. 

Gertrude,  w'ho  was  quick  and  clever,  had  learned 
when  in  France  some  kinds  of  delicate  needlework, 
and  she  was  in  high  request  as  teacher  to  all  the 
girls.  Meta,  Maud,  Rosalie,  and  Mabel,  all  became 
enthusiastic  workers,  and  Emily  and  Blanche  were 
also  bent  on  learning.  But  poor  Lily  could  not 
share  the  enjoyment  of  this  new  pursuit.  It  was 
long  since  she  had  so  sadly  lamented  her  loss  of 
sight.  Her  sisters,  the  Dormers,  and  Gertrude  were 
quite  taken  up  with  the  discussion  of  stitches,  and 
of  shades  of  color  in  the  silk  and  wool ;  and  Lily, 
whose  eyes  no  longer  could  discriminate  between 
blue,  and  purple,  and  pink,  and  red,  grew  very  sad 
as  she  heard  them  so  eagerly  prosecuting  the  work 
that  every  one  said  was  so  beautiful.  Johnny  found 
her    one   day    sitting   on   the   stairs,   and   crying. 


268  BUND    LILIAS. 

"  "What  is  the  matter,  Lily  ?"  he  said  ;  "  why,  you  '11 
be  frozen  to  death  sitting  there  in  the  cold — what 
is  the  matter  ?"  Liiias  avoided  answering  his  ques- 
tions— she  did  not  like  to  tell  him  her  sorrow,  but 
still  could  not  sufficiently  check  it  to  stop  crying. 
"Come,  Lily,  don't  cry,"  he  continued,  and  unused 
to  think  of  her  as  blind,  he  said,  "  Let  us  have  a 
game  of  battledore."  This  unthinking  suggestion 
completed  her  distress,  and  exclaiming,  "  O  Johnny, 
you  know  I  cannot — -I  can  never  play  again  !"  she 
started  up,  and  ran  hastily  into  the  library,  where, 
throwing  herself  on  the  couch,  she  sobbed  as  if  her 
heart  would  break,  exclaiming  as  of  old  times, 
"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  do  ? — I  never, 
never,  can  bear  it  all  my  life." 

A  hand,  whose  touch  she  well  knew,  was  gently 
laid  on  hers,  and  she  felt  herself  quietly  raised  up 
from  the  prostrate  position  into  which  she  had 
thrown  herself,  and  her  head  laid  on  Mr.  Gambler's 
shoulder.  "  My  dear  child,  try  to  quiet  yourself," 
he  said ;  "  now  calm  those  sobs  and  tears,  and  tell 
me  what  has  so  troubled  my  little  friend." 

The  surprise  of  being  thus  accosted,  assisted  Lii- 
ias in  subduing  her  agitation,  and  she  became  more 
quiet,  but  she  did  not  speak. 


BADNESS    AND    SYMPATHY.  269 

"  Now,  Lily,  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,"  said 
Mr.  Gambler. 

But  Lllias  was  ashamed,  and  she  said  so  in  a 
whisper,  and  begged  him  not  to  ask  her.  It  was, 
however,  not  long  before  her  friend  had  drawn  from 
her  an  account  of  what  had  occurred,  and  in  her 
recital  he  was  pleased  to  find  that  pride  and  temper 
had  really  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  subject 
of  her  grief,  and  that  he  might  venture  to  soothe, 
and  try  to  comfort  her,  without  the  necessity  of 
mixing  reproof  with  his  consolation.  "  Poor  little 
girl,"  he  said,  atiectionately,  "  your  grief  is  very 
natural.  Try  to  bear  it,  dear,  for  Christ's  sake,  and 
it  will  become  lighter." 

"But  you  know,  Mr.  Gambler,"  said  Lilias, 
mournfully,  '■  I  have  tried  so  long  to  bear  it,  and  I 
thought  that  I  should  never  feel  the  loss  of  my  sight 
so  very  much  any  more.  I  know  it  is  very  un- 
grateful, but  I  do  wish  so  very  much  to  be  able  to 
work,  and  to  see  all  Gertrude's  beautiful  patterns 
and  things." 

"  I  know  you  do,  dear — I  know  you  must  wish  it. 
But,  Lily  dear,  I  do  not  think  it  is  ungrateful  to 
Vfish  it ;  but  I  think  it  might  be  ungrateful,  if  you 
were  to  let  that,  or  any  other  wish,  interfere  with 
your  cheerfulness,  or  with  your  endeavors  to  do 
23* 


270 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


your  duty.  You  must  try  to  submit  to  God's  will 
— to  accept  the  trial  in  all  its  parts.  But  to  be  able 
to  do  this  is  not  the  work  of  a  moment ;  you  must 
seek  earnestly,  day  by  day,  and  not  be  daunted. 
When  your  enemy  comes  out  as  an  armed  man  to 
meet  you,  what  must  you  do,  Lily  ?" 

"  Put  on  my  armor  ?"  asked  Lily. 

"  Yes,  dear,  '  the  whole  armor  of  God  ;'  put  on 
especially  'the  breastplate  of  faith  and  love,' — 
'  faith,'  that  God  does  well  in  all  that  He  does — 
'  love,'  O  Lily,  M^hat  will  we  not  bear  or  do  for  one 
whom  we  love,  and  who  loves  us  !"  said  Mr.  Gam- 
bier,  earnestly. 

"Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Gambler,"  said  Lilias,  eagerly. 
"  For  you,  or  papa,  or  Maud,  I  think  I  could  bear 
anything.  Oh  yes  !  and  God  loves  me  better  still 
than  you  do.  Yes,  indeed  I  will  try  again,  try  hard 
to  have  '  fellowship  with  God,'  and  like  all  He 
does." 

"  Do,  my  child,  even  more  and  more ;  and  in  the 
right  way,  with  prayer — much  prayer.  But  now, 
as  all  your  young  friends  are  busy  with  this  work 
in  which  you  cannot  join,  suppose  you  and  I  find 
something  to  do  together.  What  shall  it  be  ?"  said 
Mr.  Gambier,  cheerfully.' 

"  Oh  yes.     How  nice  that   will   be,"  said  Lily, 


SADNESS    AND    STMPATHY.  271 

quite  restored  to  cheerfulness.  "  You  said  one  day, 
that  you  would  read  me  some  of  Shakspeare. 
Will  you  now  V 

"  Yes,  that  I  will,"  replied  Mr.  Gambler,  "  I  will 
read  you  pai't  of '  The  Tempest ;'  "  and  taking  the 
volume  from  the  shelf,  he  began  to  read  that  play, 
ever  such  a  favorite  with  the  young  ;  and  soon  the 
little  party  was  joined  by  Johnny,  who,  having 
popped  in  his  head,  and  heard  what  was  going  on, 
crept  in,  and  was  soon  absorbed  in  the  interest  of 
the  story.  Then  Vernon  and  Edward  came  to  look 
for  Johnny,  and  they,  too,  stayed  to  listen  ;  so  that 
when  at  last  the  working  party  broke  up,  and  miss- 
ing Lily,  came  to  seek  hor,  thoy  found  the  whole 
circle  so  intently  occupied,  as  to  have  no  thought  for 
anything  but  Prospero  and  Miranda,  and  that  lovely 
creation  of  the  poet,  Ariel,  and  were  fain  themselves 
to  join  the  charmed  group,  and  listen  to  the  reader, 
until  the  play  was  finished. 

From  this  time,  Lilias  was  able  to  bear  for  the 
rest  of  the  party  to  be  engaged  in  pursuits  in  which 
she  could  take  no  share,  and  whenever  she  found 
that  the  talk  was  so  exclusively  of  shades  and 
stitches,  as  to  afford  no  opportunity  for  general  or 
more  amusing  conversation,  she  ran  off  to  seek  her 
father,  or  some  one  else,  who  might  be  free  to  at- 


272  BLIND    LILIAS. 

tend  to  her,  or  failing  such  resource,  to  amuse  her- 
self with  the  piano,  or  a  chat  with  nurse.  There 
were,  however,  very  many  hours  in  which  the 
amusements  were  such  as  the  little  blind  child  could 
fully  share  in,  Mr.  Hope  or  Mr.  Gambier  occa- 
h'onally  read  Shakspeare  or  some  amusing  book 
aloud,  and  then  Lily  listened  with  all  her  heart. 
They  had  also  many  merry  games  in  the  house, 
and  pleasant  long  walks  and  rides.  Nice  music, 
too,  enlivened  them,  and  here  Lilias  was  able 
to  take  her  part  freely,  so  that  altogether  the 
visit  of  her  young  friends  proved  very  pleasant,  and 
when  they  went  away,  it  was  agreed  that  Lilias 
should  some  day  go  with  Emily,  and  spend  a  few 
days  at  Kingsford  with  them,  Maud  undertaking  to 
be  of  the  party,  as  guardian  and  helper  to  her  sister. 
On  the  last  day  of  the  year,  came  Mr.  Fraser, 
and  his  grand-daughters,  Helen  and  Robina  Camp- 
bell, two  lively  girls,  of  about  the  same  ages  as 
Maud  and  Mabel.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had 
visited  their  relatives,  or  had,  indeed,  been  in  Eng- 
land, and  they  were  full  of  delight  at  the  novelties 
they  had  seen.  Of  course  they  were  all  affection- 
ately welcomed  by  the  party  at  the  Grange.  Mr. 
Eraser  had  been  a  magnificent  man,  and  his  huge 
proportions,  snow-white  hair,  and  dignified  step,  at 


SADNESS    AND    SYMPATHY.  273 

first  made  all  the  inmates  of  the  house,  except  little 
Lilias,  stand  rather  in  awe  of  him.  She,  poor  little 
dear,  saw  none  of  these  alarming  symptoms;  she 
felt  the  tender  embrace  with  which  the  good  old 
man  held  her  in  his  arms,  she  heard  the  deeply 
breathed  expression  of  love  and  pity  with  which  lie 
said,  "  Poor  child,  poor  dear  child,  may  our  God 
give  her  better  blessings  than  He  has,  in  His  infi- 
nite wisdom,  withdrawn  ;"  and  she  at  once  yielded 
her  loving  little  heart  to  this  affectionate  friend,  and 
settling  herself  on  a  low  stool  by  his  side,  gave  her- 
self up  to  his  companionship. 


XXYI. 

GRANDPA  FHASBH^S  STORY. 

fT  was  seldom  that  grandpapa  was  seen  without 
Lilias  on  one  side  and  Emily  on  the  other; 
for,  fond  as  Lily  was  of  her  new  friend,  it  was 
only  when  she  shared  him  with  her  old  one  that  she 
was  quite  happy  ;  and  so  the  two  little  girls  led 
him  to  the  poultry-yard  and  the  fish-pond,  to  the 
hill  and  to  the  beach,  questioning  him  on  the  differ- 
ence in  things  here  and  in  his  Highland  home,  and 
listening  with  the  most  intense  and  awe-stricken  in- 
terest to  the  tales  he  told  them  of  the  mighty  hills 
and  wild  districts  of  his  native  land,  and  of  the 
snow  storms  and  drifts  which  have  such  wonderful 
sway  there.  He  told  them  of  many  poor  creatures 
whom  he  had  known  of  as  perishing  in  the  deep, 
deep  snow ;  of  one  family  especially,  who  dwelt 
amongst  the  mountains.  "  The  poor  parents  had 
one  sweet  girl  of  fourteen,  who  was  gone  to  the 
town,  which  lay  some  two  miles  from  her  home,  to 
purchase  some  provisions  for  the  family  against  the 
Christmas  day,  which  was  now  near  at  hand  ;  they 


GRANDPA    FRASEr's    STORY.  275 

had  also  two  little  gii'ls,  nine  and  six  years  old, 
and  they  wei-e  gone  to  the  village  school,  which  lay 
not  half  a  mile  from  their  home  in  the  other  direc- 
tion. 

"  It  had  been  a  bright,  clear  morning,  but  at 
noon  the  sky  became  overcast,  and  before  dark  a 
heavy  fall  of  snow  had  begun  to  lie  thick  on  the 
ground.  Alarmed  for  their  girl,  who  was  to  have 
been  at  home  before  dark,  the  father  set  out  to 
meet  her  and  guide  her  steps  through  the  more 
difficult  part  of  the  path,  whilst  the  mother  pre- 
pared the  evening  meal,  and  put  some  dry  clothing 
for  the  children  to  warm  by  the  fire,  knowing  that 
they  must  come  in  wet  and  cold.  At  the  time  at 
which  they  ought  to  return,  she  set  open  the  door 
to  guide  and  cheer  them  by  the  bright  fire-light,  but 
they  came  not.  Then  she  went  a  little  way  on  the 
road  to  meet  them,  but  in  vain  ;  and  getting  thor- 
oughly uneasy,  she  closed  the  door  of  her  house, 
and  set  oft^  for  the  village,  hoping  that  the  school- 
mistress had  detained  them  until  their  father  should 
come  for  them. 

"  Alas !  when  she  got  to  the  school  she  learned 
that  the  little  ones  had  all  been  despatched  to  their 
homes  almost  as  soon  as  the  storm  began,  lest  they 
should  be  unable  to  reach  them  when   it  had  con- 


276  BLIND    LILIAS. 

tinued  long.  Struggling  with  the  storm,  and  with 
difficulty  beating  her  way  through  the  deep  snow, 
the  poor  creature  hastily  retraced  her  steps  to  her 
lonely  home ;  but  not  before  she  had  roused  some 
of  the  villagers,  and  induced  them  to  go  forth  in 
search  of  her  children.  When  she  got  to  her  shiel- 
ing, the  house  was  empty,  the  fire  almost  out,  and 
her  distress  was  increased  by  finding  that  not  only 
were  her  little  ones  not  there,  but  that  her  husband 
and  Bessie  were  also  still  absent.  Hours  passed, 
but  no  tidings  of  either  party  were  obtained.  The 
villagers  sought  in  vain  for  the  poor  little  girls,  no 
trace  of  them  was  found  ;  and  wild  with  terror,  the 
mother  set  out  to  seek  her  husband  and  other  child. 
Mercifully,  before  she  had  gone  far  she  met  them 
returning.  The  father  had  found  his  girl  lying  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  nearly  covered  with  snow,  and 
quite  unconscious.  He  had  taken  her  in  his  arms 
and  borne  her  to  a  shepherd's  cot,  which  happily 
was  not  far  distant,  and  after  many  loving  efforts, 
the  poor  girl's  life  came  back,  and  the  blood  once 
more  mantled  on  her  cheek  and  lip.  Then,  though 
with  difficulty,  her  father,  assisted  by  the  shepherd, 
had  brought  her  home,  knowing  the  anguish  of  dis- 
tress in  which  his  poor  wife  must  be  at  their  long 
absence." 


'///ji'ihiMi,  ,1. 


'  The  fatlicr  had  found  his  girl  nearly  covered  with  snow  and  quite 
unconscious. 


GRANDPA    FRASER'S    STORY.  271 

"  But,  then,  he  did  not  know  about  the  little 
girls,  grandpapa  ?"  asked  Lilias.  "  No  :  though  of 
course  he  could  not.  Poor,  poor  man,  what  did  he 
do?" 

"  Worn  out  and  wearied  as  he  was,  love,  he 
could  not  believe  that  all  had  been  done  that  might 
have  been  ;  so  again  he  sallied  forth,  and  long  and 
earnest  was  the  search  he  made  for  his  two  little 
lambs,  but  they  could  not  be  found.  O  children, 
it  was  an  awful  thing  to  see  the  agony  of  that 
strong,  earnest  man,  his  wrestling  with  his  grief 
and  despair,  his  endeavor  to  comfort  his  wife  and 
his  poor  hall-dead  child,  and  then  again  the  wild 
outbreaking  of  his  agony  as  he  cast  himself  on  his 
knees  and  called  on  his  God  to  pity  him  and  save 
his  children.     Never,  never  can  I  forget  it." 

"  What!  were  you  there,  grandpapa "?" 

"  Yes,  darling.  The  schoolmistress  told  me  of 
the  loss  of  the  children,  and  I  could  not  stay  in  my 
home  whilst  such  wo  w^as  on  the  mounlain,  and  I 
might  be  a  comfort ;  so  I  shared  in  the  search  for 
the  precious  little  ones,  and  I  saw  and  shared  the 
anguish  of  the  parents,  for  sweet  little  Effie  and 
Lucy  Graham  were  two  of  the  dearest  amongst  the 
lambs  of  my  flock :  and  surely  they  were  lambs  in 
the  Good  Shepherd's  flock  too  !" 
24 


278  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"But,  Mr.  Eraser,  do  go  on,"  said  Emily. 
"Please,  tell  on." 

"  Well,  love,"  continued  the  old  pastor,  "  'tis  a 
dreary  tale,  and  I  would  fain  I  had  not  begun  to  tell 
it.  The  night  passed  at  last,  and  then  the  search 
was  renewed,  but  still  in  vain.  The  whole  road 
from  the  scliool-housc  to  the  cottage  was  cleared  of 
snow,  and  one  of  the  dear  lost  children's  little  shoes 
was  found,  which  showed  that  they  had  been  on  it, 
and  then  it  was  conjectured  that  they  must  have 
taken  a  wrong  turn,  and  wandered  far  away,  and 
been  overpowered  by  the  snow  amidst  the  hills, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  sit  down  and  be  still  ;  and 
hard  it  was  even  to  me.  The  snow  lay  heavy  on 
the  ground,  and  was  renewed  from  time  to  time,  so 
that  more  than  a  month  passed  sadly  before  we 
could  have  hope  of  finding  the  bodies  of  the  little 
ones ;  and  the  mother  pined  away,  and  the  father 
was  wrapped  in  solemn  wo.  As  Christian  people, 
they  tried  to  bend  beneath  the  rod  and  kiss  the 
hand  that  smote  them ;  '  Lord,  Father,  thou  hast 
been  merciful  in  sparing  our  eldest  whom  we  had 
well-nigh  lost ;  help  us  to  say,  '  Thy  will  be  done,' 
said  the  mother,  with  streaming  eyes ;  '  but  O  my 
precious  little  ones !  if  I  could  but  have  had  your 


GRANDPA    FRASEr'b    STORY.  279 

little  bodies,  and  washed  and  dressed  them  for  the 
grave,  and  sat  down  by  them  in  my  sorrow  !' 

"  '  Wife,'  replied  poor  Graham,  '  He  knows  what 
is  best.  It  won't  do  to  accept  part  of  God's  deal- 
ings, and  tell  Him  He  would  have  done  better  if 
He  had  corrected  us  in  a  ditlerent  way.  'Twould 
have  lightened  the  load  to  have  looked  on  their 
dear  little  faces  and  given  them  solemn  burial ;  but 
if  our  Father  sees  a  needs-be  that  we  should  bear 
the  whole  load,  let  us  try^  my  dear,  to  take  it  as  it 
is,  and  say  to  all,  "  It  is  well."  O  Effie,  'tis  indeed 
a  bitter  cup  ;  but  our  Saviour  drank  a  bitterer  for 
us,  and  drank  it  to  the  dregs,  and  He  will  help  us 
through.' 

"  Few  people  who  had  seen  that  cottar  and  his 
blithe  wife  on  the  morning  of  that  snow-storm 
would  have  recognized  then),  Lily,  at  the  end  of 
the  month  from  that  day — so  worn,  so  thin,  so  wo- 
stricken  were  they.  Yet  did  their  fliith  grow  day 
by  day ;  and  to  look  on  them,  sorrowful  as  they 
were,  it  w  as  plain  to  see  that  they  had  a  strength 
and  consolation  such  as  neither  man  nor  angel  can 
attain  to,  save  from  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Com- 
forter. 

"  It  was  ou  the  first  of  February,  between  five 
and  six  weeks  after  their  aflhction  had  fallen  upon 


280  BLIND    LILIAS. 

them,  that  a  thaw  and  heavy  rain  set  in,  and  lasted 
two  days ;  and  then  the  snow  melted  away,  and  on 
the  third  morning  the  sun  shone  forth  in  its  glory. 
Then  together  the  parents  went  forth  to  renew  their 
search." 

"  And  did  they  find  the  dear  children,  grandpa  1 
oh,  did  they  find  them  alive  V 

"  They  had  not  walked  ten  yards  fi-om  their  cot- 
tage, Lilias — nay,  they  had  not  left  their  own  little 
garden,  when,  turning  round,  the  mother's  quick 
eye  discovered  a  red  and  blue  thing  lying  on  the 
ground.  She  sprang  towards  it  as  it  lay  under  the 
hedge,  and  just  but  a  few  yards  from  the  end  win- 
dow of  the  house,  and  there  lying  on  the  bank, 
wrapt  in  each  other's  arms,  lay  the  two  dead  chil- 
dren, as  calm,  as  fair,  and  their  sweet  faces  as  un- 
disturbed, as  if  sleep  and  not  death  had  stretched 
them  there.  The  sun  shone  full  on  the  little 
corpses,  the  birds  twittered  on  the  tree  above  them, 
and  there  they  lay — Effie,  the  eldest,  with  her  little 
cloak  pulled  from  her  own  neck  to  be  folded  over 
little  Lucy,  whose  golden  curls  lay  glittering  on  the 
neck  and  bosom  of  her  elder  sister.  Eflie  had  but 
one  shoe  on,  but  it  was  Lucy's  that  had  been  found  ; 
and  on  looking  at  the  little  feet,  it  was  seen  that 
Efiie   had  put  hers  on  her  sister's  foot,  and  gone 


GRANDPA    FRASEr's    STORY.  281 

without  herself.  It  was  a  sad  sight,  darlings ;  I 
don't  know  how  we  all  bore  it." 

"  And  so  the  poor  mother  had  the  dear  little 
bodies  at  last !  Sometimes  it  is  so,  grandpa,  when 
people  have  got  to  be  patient,  and  to  say,  '  Thy  will 
be  done,'  and  to  be  ready  to  bear  all  the  trial,  that 
God  takes  away  part  of  it,  and  turns  some  other 
part  of  it  into  a  pleasure,  that  so  at  last  one  sees  so 
much  that  is  good  and  pleasant,  that  one  seems 
almost  to  like  the  thing  that  has  been  such  a  trou- 
ble— not  that  these  poor  people  could  ever  have 
liked  to  lose  little  Effie  and  Lucy." 

"  No,  my  child,"  replied  Mr.  Fraser,  "  they 
could  not  like  the  trial  in  itself,  and  for  its  own 
sake.  You  know,  dear,  it  is  said  in  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  '  Now,  no  affliction  for  the  present 
seemeth  joyous,  but  grievous.'  It  is  afterwards, 
when,  if  in  times  of  trouble  we  sow  to  the  Spirit, 
we  are  reaping  the  holy  harvest  of  the  peaceable 
fruits  of  righteousness,  that  we  find  the  benefit  of 
adversity — sanctified  adversity,  I  should  say.  In 
the  time  of  trial,  if  we  are  enabled  to  say,  'Thy 
will  be  done,'  and  accept  God's  dealings  with  us, 
not  anxious  that  He  should  take  away  our  trial, 
but  submitting  ourselves  to  His  will,  meekly  and 
humbly — then  1  think  we  are  in  tlic  position  in 
'24- 


282  BLIND    LILIAS. 

which  God  would  have  us,  and  that  He  does  not 
call  ou  us  to  like  the  disciplhie  itself." 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  dearest  grand- 
papa. I  have  tried  so  hard  to  like  my  blindness, 
and  yet  I  cannot ;  and  sometimes  I  feel  as  if  it  was 
very  wrong  to  feel  as  I  do  how  much  I  should  like 
to  see  them  all,  and  all  the  beautiful  sunshine,  and 
flowers,  and  butterflies,  in  the  summer,  and  those 
fine  old  dark  trunks  and  branches  of  the  trees,  that 
I  used  to  like  so  very  much,  when  the  green  ivy 
and  gray  and  yellow  lichens  were  on  them  !  I  feel 
it  so  much  sometimes,  grandpapa ;  and  then  I  try 
to  make  out  to  myself  that  it  is  pleasant  to  be 
blind,  and  to  like  it  because  God  did  it,  but  I  do 
not  succeed,  and  that  makes  me  sad  sometimes." 

"  Do  not  let  it  make  you  sad,  darling ;  try  and 
pray  that  you  may  learn  to  be  quite  contented  and 
happy  in  your  blindness,  but  do  not  vex  yourself 
by  striving  after  that  which  was  never  intended. 
My  child,  we  are  told  to  be  content  with  such  things 
as  we  have,  not  because  we  have  them,  but  because 
they  are  what  God  has  given  us.  To  be  ready  to 
have  a  thing  or  to  give  it  up,  to  occupy  one  posi- 
tion or  another,  in  either  case  cheerfully,  and  be- 
cause it  is  God's  appointment  for  us,  is  the  thing  we 
should  aim  at.     Bear  the  discipline  now.  and  hope 


GRANDPA    FRASEr's    STORV.  283 

for  the  benefit  hereafter.  I  suppose  few  little  girls 
like  best  to  be  at  school,  unless  it  is  those  who  are 
wise  enough  to  look  for  the  good  that  they  will  gain 
by  learning." 

"  No,  grandpapa ;  but  then  you  see  my  trial  will 
last  all  my  life,  and  when  are  those  'peaceable 
fruits '  to  come  to  me  1" 

"  There  are  two  things  to  be  said  about  that, 
Lily.  In  the  first  place,  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
benefits  will  all  be  reaped  in  this  life.  If  your 
afllliction  is,  by  God's  grace,  made  an  instrument  to 
wean  you  from  the  world,  and  lead  you  nearer  to 
God,  you  will  even  here  begin  to  reap  that  harvest, 
but  hereafter  you  will  be  able  with  thankfulness  to 
say,  '  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted, 
that  I  might  learn  Thy  statutes.' " 

"  Yes,  grandpapa ;  I  see  that.  But  you  said 
there  were  two  things  that  might  be  said;  what 
was  the  other  1" 

"  Why,  the  other  is — you  say  that  your  trial  will 
last  all  your  life.  Now  this  I  doubt,  at  least  I 
doubt  whether  it  will  in  its  full  measure.  That 
you  will  be  blind  all  your  life,  poor  dear,  is,  I  fear, 
but  too  true,  but  I  think  that  the  trial  and  affliction 
that  your  blindness  is  to  you  will  greatly  lessen  ; 
you  will,  as  time  goes  on,  lose  some  of  the  vivid- 


284  BLIND    LILIAS. 

ness  of  your  remembrance  of  external  objects,  that 
now  leads  you  so  much  to  long  for  sight,  and,  by 
degrees,  acquire  first  one  means  and  then  another, 
of  improving  your  position,  so  that,  after  a  very 
few  years,  you  will,  I  trust,  be  feeling  the  salutary 
effects  of  that  discipline  which  was  the  means  of 
first  leading  you  to  the  Saviour  for  comfort,  and 
then  of  rousing  you  to  find  objects  of  interest,  and 
modes  of  usefulness,  without  that  faculty  on  which 
most  people  are  dependent ;  aud  I  think  that  a  very 
happy  future  remains  in  store  for  my  precious  little 
girl." 

"  I  think  so  too,  grandpapa,"  said  Lily,  "  and  I 
thank  you  very  much  for  setting  me  right.  But 
one  more  thing.  Is  it  wrong  to  like  all  the  little 
pleasures  that  my  blindness  brings  me,  and  let 
them  partly  make  up  to  me  for  not  seeing  things  ? 
I  mean,  that  I  think  sometimes  when  dear  papa 
leads  me  so  carefully  along,  and  stays  by  my  side, 
when  if  I  could  see  he  would  not  do  so ;  and  when 
Maud,  and  Mabel,  and  the  rest  always  are  so  very 
kind,  and  Emily  reads  to  me  so  much,  and  espe- 
cially when  Evra  and  Mr.  Gambier  take  me  out  on 
the  pony ;  then  I  think,  '  this  is  all  because  I  am 
blind,'  and  when  I  have  been  near  liking  to  be 
blind,  as  I  have  tried  so  much  to  do,  I  believe  it 


GRANDPA    FRASER's    STORY.  285 

has  been  just  at  those  pleasant  times,  and  for  them, 
and  not  because  of  pleasing  God,  grandpapa." 

"  My  little  girl,  you  are  altogether  rather  in  a 
puzzle,"  replied  grandpapa.  "I  have  explained 
your  mistake  about  liking  to  be  blind  ;  and  it  is  not 
good  for  you,  dear,  always  to  be  so  much  with  your 
inward  eyes  bent  on  yourself.  Accept  all  these  pleas- 
ant things,  my  child,  as  from  the  hand  of  God,  and 
if  you  can  realize  that  He  ^^ends  them  to  you,  and  be 
grateful  to  Him  for  Lhcm,  you  are  pleasing  Him  as 
much  when  you  do  so  as  you  are  when  you  are  ac- 
cepting your  blindness  as  from  Him,  and  trying  to  be 
contented  with  it,  and  under  the  restrictions  it  lays 
on  you.  You  know,  dear,  you  arc  to  accept  thank- 
fully the  whole  of  God's  will ;  and  these  loving  at- 
tentions of  dear  friends,  anil  all  the  kindnesses  you 
receive  in  consequence  of  your  blindness,  are  as 
much  parts  of  His  dealings  with  you  as  the  blind- 
ness itself.  And  you  must  use  them  aright,  my 
love,  and  not  make  idols  of  those  gratifications,  nor 
allow  yourself  to  hold  them  too  flist — they  are  of 
the  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy  of  your 
Father  ;  but  you  must  try  to  be  ready  to  give  them 
up,  if  called  on  to  do  so." 

"  Yes,  grandpapa,"  said  Lilias  thoughtfully,  and 


286  BLIND    LILIAS. 

after  a  pause  added,  "  but  I  should  not  like  it,  and 
I  hope  it  will  please  God  not  to  try  me." 

"  Be  thankful  for  to-day,  darling,  and  trust  God 
for  to-morrow.  You  will  never  be  without  the  best 
blessing  whilst  you  have  Him  to  turn  to." 

"  But  w^hat  do  you  mean,  grandpapa,  by  saying 
that  it  is  not  good  for  me  to  be  looking  so  much 
into  my  own  mind  '?"  asked  Lilias.  "  I  thought  it 
was  right  that  we  should  examine  our  own  hearts, 
and  see  what  our  motives  were,  and  when  we  had 
done  right,  and  when  wrong  f 

"  Certainly,  dear,  it  is  right,"  replied  Mr.  Fraser  ; 
"  but  you  know,  my  love,  we  may  give  an  undue 
proportion  of  our  time  and  thought  to  what  is  a 
duty.  Now  I  have  sometimes  seen  Christians  so 
much  occupied  in  watching  the  movements  of  their 
own  hearts,  as  almost  to  forget  to  look  up  to  Christ, 
or  to  listen  to  His  consolations,  and  the  teachings 
of  His  Spirit.  They  are  so  busied  in  scrutinizing 
every  thought  and  feeling,  that  self  and  not  Christ 
is  the  object  of  their  attention.  Search  out  your 
heart,  love,  with  pi-ayer  before  God,  and  you  will 
find  it  full  of  evil,  and  that  your  only  hope  of  peace 
is  to  look  away  from  that  sinful  self,  and,  saying, 
'  God  be  mei'ciful  to  me  a  sinner,'  to  look  upwards. 
Keep  your  eye  fixed  on  the  glorious  Day-star,  my 


OKANDPA    FRASKr's    STORY.  287 

child  ;  be  ever  looking  unto  Jesus  and  trying  to  be 
like  Him.  What  would  you  think,  Lilias,  of  a  very 
sick  person,  who  should  send  for  the  doctor,  and  all 
the  time  of  each  of  his  visits  be  so  occupied  in 
thinking  over  her  symptoms,  and  of  how  bad  this 
was,  and  how  threatening  that,  as  to  be  unable  to 
hear  the  pleasant  and  encouraging  words  he  said  to 
her ;  and  then  again  between  his  visits,  to  think  and 
think  again  about  all  her  ailments,  so  as  to  be  so 
much  absorbed  by  them  as  to  forget  to  take  the 
medicines  he  had  prescribed  for  her  ?" 

"  Why,  I  should  think  her  very  silly,  grandpapa," 
said  Lilias. 

"  Then  now,  dear,  let  me  advise  you  to  look  more 
at  Christ,  and  less  at  your  own  state  of  mind  and 
feeling  ;  for  the  constant  dwelling  on  the  latter  will 
only  produce  a  morbid  and  unhealthy  condition,  and 
hinder  you  from  rejoicing  in  God,  whereas  the  for- 
mer will  cause  light,  and  life,  and  peace  in  your 
heart,  and  lead  you  to  glorify  Him,  whom  you  will, 
so  doing,  perceive  to  be  exceeding  glorious,  and 
pure,  and  holy,  beyond  what  heart  can  conceive  or 
speech  can  utter." 

All  were  silent  for  a  time,  after  grandpapa  had 
ceased,  and  then  Emily  said,  "  But  please  tell  us, 


288  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Mr.  Fraser,  did  poor  Graham  give  dear  little  Effie 
and  Lucy  solemn  burial  V 

"  Yes,  dear,  it  was  a  solemn  day  indeed.  All  the 
people  from  the  village  and  from  the  mountain 
hamlets  round  flocked  to  the  kirkyard,  to  see  the 
sweet  little  ones  laid  in  their  early  graves.  The 
snow  had,  as  I  told  you,  all  vanished  for  a  season, 
except  in  the  heavy  drifts,  where  it  lies  unthawed 
all  the  winter  through  in  that  cold  climate.  The 
ground  was,  however,  laid  bare,  but  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  day  when  the  children  were  to  be  buried, 
a  thin  scattering  fell,  and  clothed  all  the  country 
with  white.  It  fell,  too,  into  the  open  grave,  where- 
in the  little  ones  were  soon  to  be  laid,  and  lined  it 
with  its  delicate  flakes,  and  there,  in  that  pure  white 
tomb,  more  glorious  in  its  beauty  than  the  Parian 
marble,  were  the  sweet  children  interred. 

"  They  were  borne  to  the  yard  by  little  girls  of 
their  own  age,  clad  in  white,  and  many,  many  were 
the  tears  that  fell  to  the  memory  of  the  little 
blossoms  so  early  transplanted  into  the  heavenly 
garden." 

They  had  now  reached  the  Grange,  and  the  two 
children,  leaving  grandpapa,  ran  up-stairs  to  talk 
over  the  little  snow-perished  children  and  Mr. 
Fraser's  conversation,  at  their  leisure. 


XXVII. 

TRIALS  i^HSi^D. 

(^^ITHERTO  no  trials  had  assailed  Lilias  save 
!^y  her  blindness  itself  and  its  immediate  and 
necessary  results  ;  and  these  had  of  late  been 
so  much  softened  to  her  by  the  loving  watchfulness 
of  her  friends,  that  the  pleasure  of  being  the  object 
of  such  care,  at  times  almost  counterbalanced  the 
pain  of  her  position  ;  and  if  she  did  not,  as  she 
said,  like  to  be  blind,  it  certainly  very  much  aided 
her  in  bearing  her  deprivation  of  sight.  Moreover, 
the  trial  of  blindness  was  a  recognized  trial — re- 
cognized by  herself  and  all  around  her  as  one  to 
submit  to  which,  required  much  faith  and  patience 
on  her  part,  and  much  indulgence  on  theirs.  It  was 
ever  present  to  her  mind  that  she  was  to  accept  that 
trial  and  bear  it  chcei'fully  for  Christ's  sake,  and 
by  His  strength  she  had  been  wonderfully  enabled 
to  do  so.  But  now,  poor  child,  she  began  to  think, 
because  she  had  in  so  great  a  degree  conquered  in 
this  affliction,  that  she  was  strong,  that  she  "  had 
attained."  This  is  just  the  state  of  mind  in  which 
'25 


290  BLIND    LILIAS. 

it  often  pleases  our  heavenly  Teacher  so  far  to  alter 
uur  position,  that  trials  of  a  different  character  than 
those  which  have  before  assailed  us  or  have  been 
anticipated  come  on  us  and  take  us  at  unawares. 
So  it  was  to  be  with  our  little  blind  child.  New 
troubles  were  preparing  for  her  in  secret,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  they  burst  on  her. 

Let  it  not  be  thought  wrong  to  trust  that  God 
will  bear  us  through  new  troubles  that  may  lie  be- 
fore us,  since  we  have  already  proved  His  strength 
and  goodness :  "  Because  Thou  hast  been  my  help, 
therefore  under  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings  will  I  re- 
joice." To  trust  God  for  time  to  come  because  He 
has  been  faithful  in  times  past,  is  the  right  and  safe 
josition  of  God's  children.  Possessed  of  this  con- 
fidence, this  well-grounded  faith,  we  shall  be  able  to 
rejoice  in  present  blessings  without  fear  of  future 
sorrows ;  to  bear  present  suffei'ings  without  dread 
of  the  extent  to  which  they  may  amount  hereafter  ; 
and  with  filial  confidence  to  say,  "  Thou  hast  deliv- 
ered my  soul  from  death ;  wilt  not  thou  deliver  my 
feet  fi'om  falling  V  in  the  full  assurance  that  He  will 
deliver  them. 

But  there  is  a  state  of  mind  different  from  this, 
when  the  soul  says,  "  I  am  strong."  Then  is  it  in  a 
dangerous  state ;  and  this  is  the  position  in  which 


TRIALS    AHEAD.  291 

many  a  one  who  has  been  assailed  by  a  great  fight 
of  affliction,  and  has  conquered,  is  apt  to  flill.  He 
thinks  the  fight  won,  and  loosens  the  armor,  and  so, 
when  the  enemy  comes  on  him,  is  found  unprepared. 
Such  was  the  state  into  which  our  little  friend  was 
in  danger  of  falling,  had  not  God  whose  faithfulness 
never  fails,  graciously  roused  her  out  of  her  self- 
complacency. 

Whilst  Mr.  Fraser  and  his  little  companions  had 
been  enjoying  their  walk  on  the  beach,  and  the  eldtr 
girls  with  Everard  had  been  paying  a  long  visit  at 
the  Cottage,  Mr.  Hope  had  been  receiving  a  visitor. 
As  he  sat  alone  in  his  study,  he  saw  Mr.  Gambler 
crossing  the  lawn,  and  opening  the  window  bade 
him  come  in  there,  for  all  the  rest  were  out,  and  as 
ne  was  confined  to  the  house  by  a  slight  cold,  he 
lioped  he  would  come  and  have  a  chat  with  iiim. 

With  this  invitation  Mr.  Gambier  willingly  com- 
plied. He  had  come,  he  said,  with  the  express  view 
of  having  some  conversation  with  Mr.  Hope,  and 
rejoiced  to  find  him  alone  and  disengaged  ;  and  seat- 
ing himself,  he  entered  at  once  on  the  subject  on 
wlilch  he  wished  to  speak.  Alas  !  it  was  a  sad  one. 
He  had  just  heard  of  the  serious  illness  of  his  wid- 
owed father,  who  was  a  clergyman  h(jlding  pri'for- 
ment  in  a  large  manufacturing  town  in  the  north. 


292  BLIND    LILIAS, 

He  was  an  old  man,  who  had  been  for  a  long  time 
unable  to  take  ijiuch  of  the  duty  of  the  parish,  and 
had  been  suddenly  deprived  of  the  assistance  of  a 
coadjutor  who  had  for  many  years  filled  the  situa- 
tion of  curate  in  the  parish,  and  almost  of  a  son  to 
his  good  old  rector.  This  good  man  was  now  dead, 
and  Mr.  Gambier  said  that,  at  his  father's  advanced 
age,  he  could  not  be  satisfied  to  leave  him  wholly 
to  the  care  and  society  of  strangers ;  and  as  there 
was  no  child  but  himself  to  v/atch  over  him,  he  had 
accepted  the  offer  of  an  old  friend  to  live  in  his 
house  and  take  charge  of  his  own  parish — a  step  to 
which  he  had  obtained  the  bishop's  sanction — and 
was  himself  about  to  leave  his  home  for  an  indefi- 
nite period,  and  become  his  father's  curate  and  com- 
panion. He  added,  that  as  his  friend  Mr.  Scobell, 
the  gentleman  who  was  to  take  charge  of  his  pres- 
ent parish,  was  not  young  and  was  in  delicate  health, 
it  was  evident  that  he  must  not  be  burdened  with 
all  the  duty,  but  would  require  the  assistance  of  a 
curate. 

"  Now,  dear  sir,  do  not  you  think  this  would  be 
an  excellent  opening  for  Everard  ?  He  knows  the 
people,  and  they  him;  he  has  worked  with  me,  and 
knows  all  my  plans ;  and  as  he  will  be  ready  to 
take  orders  at  Easter,  I   can   then   give  him  a  title 


i 


TRIALS    AUEAD. 


•293 


and  a  moderate  stipend,  and  he  can  live  with  you 
and  his  sisters  until  such  time  as  a  suitable  house 
can  be  found  for  him  to  take  home  his  bride." 

"Admirable,  indeed,  my  friend,''  replied  Mr. 
Hope.  "  We  shall  not  know  how  to  part  with  you, 
but  I  think  you  are  right  to  go  to  your  father.  It 
seems  that  you  have  fully  provided  for  the  wants 
of  your  parish,  and  God's  blessing  will  be  on  you 
in  the  execution  of  your  filial  duty.  But  how  we 
shall  miss  you,  Gambler ;  and  poor  little  Lilias ! 
what  will  she  do  without  her  kind  friend  and  coun- 
sellor ?" 

"  Indeed,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Gambler,  "  that  part- 
ing with  my  dear  little  friend  will  be  one  of  the 
most  painful  things  in  the  whole  business, — I  have 
felt  it  such  a  pleasure  to  possess  so  large  a  portion 
of  the  dear  child's  love  and  confidence  ;  and  to  her 
I  know  it  will  be  a  great  trial  to  be  separated  from 
me.  But  here,  as  in  all  His  dealings,  our  heavenly 
Father  has  some  good  in  store  for  us.  We  can- 
not doubt  it.  '  Goodness  and  mercy  have  followed 
us,'  and  will  continue  to  do  so.  This  new  trial  will 
help  to  form  the  Christian  character  of  dear  Lily, 
and  perhaps  will  tend  to  show  me  something  of  my 
own  heart,  for  truly  I  sometimes  fear  that  my  love 
for  the  dear  little  one  is  almost  overweening." 


294  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  And  how  soon  shall  you  leave  us,  my  friend  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Hope. 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  possibly  make  my  arrange- 
ments," replied  Mr.  Gambier.  "  I  shall  at  once  go 
to  Ribblefond,  and  see  iny  dear  father,  and  endeavor 
to  set  things  in  some  order,  and  shall  then,  God 
willing,  return  here  for  a  time,  see  my  arrangements 
for  my  people  completed,  and  take  leave  of  you  all. 
We  shall  no  doubt  meet  from  time  to  time,  but 
whilst  my  father  lives  my  place  of  residence  must 
be  near  him.  You  will  find  in  Mr.  Scobell  all  you 
could  desire  in  a  pastor.  He  is  a  Christian  of  the 
highest  caste,  and  also  a  man  of  much  intelligence 
and  a  good  scholar ;  and  in  his  wife,  too,  I  hope  you 
will  have  a  great  acquisition,  for  she  is  most  excel- 
lent." 

'•  Our  party  will  be  sadly  lessened  soon,"  said 
Mr.  Hope,  "  for  I  have  agreed,  at  her  grandfather's 
earnest  entreaty,  that  Mabel  shall  go  with  him  and 
her  cousins  to  spend  some  months  in  the  Highlands 
and  be  introduced  to  her  dear  mother's  family. 
Maud  is  so  important  to  her  little  sister's  well-being, 
that  I  could  not  like  to  part  with  her,  nor,  indeed, 
would  she  hear  of  leaving  us.  It  has  not  as  yet 
been  named  to  Mabel,  but  I  think  she  will  like  the 
change ;  and  though  I  do  not  willingly  part  with 


i 


TRIALS    AHEAD.  295 

either  of  my  dear  children,  I  think  it  is  very  desir- 
able that  one  should  be  yielded  to  their  grandfather's 
wishes,  and  so  I  shall  agree  to  it,  if  she  is  willing  to 
go.  At  first  when  Mr.  Eraser  proposed  it,  it  was 
in  the  presence  of  the  girls,  and  I  at  once  said.  No  ; 
but  he  has  earnestly  presA-d  it  since,  and  I  have,  on 
thinking  the  matter  over,  decided  that  I  cannot  re- 
fuse what  he  so  much  desires." 

"  Everard  too  will  be  absent,"  said  Mr.  Gam- 
bier  ;  '•  will  he  not  ?" 

"  He  will,"  replied  Mr.  Hope.  "  We  have 
agreed  that  for  the  next  few  weeks  he  had  better 
give  himself  up  to  preparations  for  his  final  exam- 
ination ;  so  he  will  go  up  to  Oxford  next  week,  and 
probably  not  return  until  he  has  received  holy 
orders  and  is  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  England." 

"  And  now,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Gambier,  "  I 
must  leave  you,  but  will  join  your  party  in  the 
evening,  if  you  will  allow  me,  as  to-morrow  I  set 
out  for  the  North,  and  we  shall  not  again  meet  for 
some  weeks." 

Mr.  Hope,  of  course,  cordially  pressed  his  ftiend 
to  give  them  as  much  time  as  he  could  spare,  and 
then,  Mr.  Gambier  requesting  that  Mr.  Hope  would 
communicate  his  plans  to  the  rest  of  the  party,  the 
two  gentlemen  separated. 


296  BLIND    LILIAS. 

There  was  some  little  surprise  felt  throughout  the 
family  circle  when,  after  dinner  was  over  and  the 
party  had  gathered  round  the  firf ,  Mr.  Plope  drew 
Mabel  into  her  flxvorite  corner  of  his  chair,  and 
asked  her  how  she  would  like  it  if  he  "  changed  his 
mind,  and  gave  consent  for  her  to  go  with  her  grand- 
father and  cousins,  first  to  Edinburgh,  and  then, 
when  spring  allowed  them  to  travel,  to  his  home  in 
the  Highlands  for  a  few  weeks  ?" 

"  Why,  pater,  I  do  really  think  I  should  like  it 
very  much,"  replied  Mabel ;  "  I  should  not  like 
leaving  you,  dear,  darling  pater,  nor  Maud,  nor,  in- 
deed, any  of  you,  but  I  have  a  sort  of  longing,  too, 
to  go  forth  on  ray  ti*avels  and  see  things — to  see 
the  great  people  in  Edinburgh,  and  the  great  moun- 
tains in  the  Highlands,  and  all  the  other  great  and 
little  things  in  the  world — and  I  do  think  I  should 
like  to  go — very  much  indeed,  papa  !" 

"  But  do  you  really  think  of  allowing  her  to  go, 
dear  uncle  f  exclaimed  Robina.  "  Oh,  do  let  her, 
and  then  she  can  be  Helen's  bi-idesmaid  with  me.'' 

So  many  voices  were  now  joined  in  the  entreaty, 
including  Mabel's  own,  that  Mr.  Hope  was  ftiin  to 
admit  that  he  had  decided  to  let  her  go.  Their 
journey  northward  was  to  begin  in  about  three 
weeks,  and  Mabel,  half  sorrowinff  over  the  idea  of 


TRIALS     AHEAD.  "297 

parting  willi  her  father  and  sisters  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life,  and  half  rejoicing  in  that  of  seeing  new 
scenes  and  new  people — a  prospect  in  which  the 
young  generally  much  delight — set  about  making 
her  preparations  for  the  journey. 

Poor  liltle  Lilias  was  sorely  troubled  at  the 
thought  of  losing  "  dear  merry  May,"  as  she  called 
her,  and  just  when  dear  grandpapa,  aSiv]  Robi,  and 
Helen,  were  going  away  too.  It  would  be  "  so 
dull,"  she  said.  Little  did  Lily  know  all  that  was 
in  store  for  her.  She  comforted  herself  by  think- 
ing, that  there  would  still  be  a  great  many  things 
left  that  were  very  pleasant,  and  amongst  the 
brightest  of  these,  shone  the  thoughts  of  Mr.  Gam- 
bier  and  the  pony,  and  of  her  own  darling  Emily, 
with  whom  she  became  day  by  day  more  closely 
intimate. 

But  her  dismay,  when  she  heard  that  Mr.  Gam- 
Ijier  was  also  going  away,  was  extreme.  She 
v.ept  and  bewailed  herself  until  reminded  that  her 
friend  was  coming  in  the  evening,  and  would  bt 
vexed  to  see  her  giving  May  so  much.  Then  she 
endeavored  to  cheer  up,  but  her  countenance  was 
not  sufficiently  under  her  command  to  enable  her 
to  look  cheerful,  and  poor  Mr.  Gambicr  was 
greeted,  when  he  arrived,  with  something  very  like 


298  BLIND    LILIA8. 

reproaches  and  with  a  very  cloudy  face.  Mr. 
Hope  had  not  told  the  little  girl  anything  more 
than  that  Mr.  Gambier  was  going  away  for  a  short 
time,  as  he  justly  thought  it  as  well  to  break  the 
matter  to  her  by  degrees ;  and  as  he  was  coming 
back  again  for  some  weeks  before  his  final  depart- 
ure, her  father  thought  that  a  future  time  would  be 
soon  enough  to  impart  to  her  the  heavier  tidings 
that  awaited  her. 

Sitting  close  by  the  side  of  her  friend,  Lily, 
however,  determined  to  make  the  most  she  could 
of  her  present  pleasure,  and  a  few  whisjjered  words 
from  him,  which  contained  a  little  of  reproof  and  a 
good  deal  of  comfort  and  encouragement,  helped  to 
make  her  again  cheerful  and  able  to  enjoy  the  plea- 
sant evening  with  all  its  varied  amusements. 

As  Mr.  Gambier  was  not  to  leave  home  early, 
he  promised  to  breakfast  with  them  next  day,  and 
then  Mr.  Hope  and  Lily  were  to  go  with  him  to 
the  station,  where  he  took  the  train,  so  that  with 
that  pleasure  in  view,  the  friends  parted  for  the 
night  with  very  tolerable  equanimity. 

The  next  morning  was  bright  but  cold.  Mr. 
Gambier  came  as  he  had  appointed,  and  the  break- 
fist  passed  off  very  pleasantly.  An  hour  after  it 
was  over,  the  carriage  was  announced,  as  ho  wished 


TRIALS     AHEAD.  299 

to  Stop  at  Cliff  cottage,  and  say  farewell  to  Mrs. 
Evelyn  and  the  Dormers,  and  was  also  to  go  to 
his  own  home  and  take  up  his  portmanteau.  The 
drive  was  very  pleasant,  and  the  conversation  lively, 
and  when  they  got  to  the  cottage,  Emily  was  picked 
up,  and  taken  with  them  to  the  station,  with  per- 
mission to  return  and  spend  the  day  with  Lilias  ; 
so  that  this  day,  that  Lily  had  expected  to  be 
dreadfully  sad  and  dull,  bade  fair  to  be  a  very 
pleasant  one.  The  parting  with  Mr.  Gambler  once 
over,  Mr.  Hope  proposed  driving  the  two  little 
girls  through  the  town,  and  home  by  another  way, 
and  altogether  Lily's  spirits  soon  rose,  and  she  and 
Emily  became  full  of  fun  and  glee. 

Although  they  were  such  fast  friends,  there  were 
great  differences  both  in  the  persons  and  the  char- 
acters of  these  little  girls.  Emily  was  a  stout, 
square-built  child,  sensible,  and  very  pleasing  in 
countenance,  with  straight,  darkish-brown  hair,  and 
a  peculiar  simplicity  of  diction  and  manners.  Lily, 
on  the  contrary,  was  tall,  thin,  and  pale,  with  an 
intellectual  countenance  (the  expression  of  which 
was,  however,  somewhat  dimmed  by  the  absence 
of  light  in  the  eyes),  long  massive  curls  of  auburn 
hair,  and  a  rather  romantic  and  poetical  turn  of 
thought,  which  often  showed  itself  in  her  language. 


300  BLIND    LILIA8. 

Emily  was  a  fine  example  of  common  sense.  Lily- 
was  but  too  apt  to  depart  from  the  rules  that  that 
rare  quality  might  dictate,  Emily  seldom  said  a 
word  on  any  subject  until  she  had  thought  a  little 
about  it,  and  felt  pretty  sure  she  was  right ;  whilst 
Lily  was  apt  to  break  out  into  vehement  expres- 
sions of  praise  and  admiration,  or  of  blame  and 
dislike,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  before 
she  had  well  considered  whether  such  expressions 
were  due  or  not.  They  formed  excellent  friends, 
Lily  being  like  a  graceful,  light  little  barge  on  the 
waters,  whilst  Emily,  acting  as  ballast,  had  a  power 
over  her  eager  and  clever  little  ally,  which  those 
possessed  of  steady  sense  not  unfrequently  gain 
over  their  more  brilliant  companions.  But  though 
thus  diifering,  their  love  for  each  other  was  un- 
bounded, and  Emily's  admiration  of  Lilias  was 
only  equalled  by  Lily's  respect  for  Emily. 


XXVIII. 

J&MBITIOIT  COKREGTED. 

"  \i  SHOULD  like  to  do  some  great  thing, 
/Sw  Emily,"  said  Lily,  one  day,  "  something 
■worth  doing.  There  is  no  reason  that  be- 
cause I  am  blind  1  might  not  distinguish  myself, 
you  know.  A  great  many  blind  people  liave  done 
wonderful  things.  There  was  Milton — who  ever 
wrote  such  poetry  1  and  he  was  quite  blind,  you 
know,  Emma.  And  then  there  was  Huber — what 
a  naturalist  he  was  !  and  he  could  not  see  a  bit,  and 
all  he  learned  about  the  bees  was  by  means  of  his 
servant's  eyes  instead  of  his  own," 

'•  Yes,"  replied  Emily  ;  "  and  then,  again,  there 

Mas  that  blind  traveller,  Mr. ,  something  with 

an  H — I  forget  his  name,  but  he  went  all  over  Eu- 
rope, and  to  Egypt,  and  I  don't  know  where,  and 
wrote  a  book.  I  think  if  you  do  anything  great, 
and  excel  in  anything,  Lily,  it  must  be  in  music, 
for  that  is  your  especial  talent." 

'•  So  it  is,"  answered  Lilias  ;  "  and  I  do  think  I 
will  give  up  other  things,  au'l  try  whether  I  cannot 
26 


302  BLIND    LILIAS. 

become  such  a  musician  as  that  peojjle  may  come 
from  all  parts  to  hear  'The  Blind  Musician,' and 
put  it  in  the  papers,  and  foreigners,  perhaps,  des- 
cribe how  wonderfully  I  play  on  the  different  instru- 
ments, and  sing.  Would  it  not  be  nice,  Emmy,  to 
hear  all  the  people  talking  about  the  '  Little  Blind 
Musician  V  "  And  Lilias,  flushed  with  delight  at  her 
expected  triumphs,  became,  as  she  always  did  on 
such  occasions,  quite  vehement  and  excited. 

"  But  you  know,  Lily,  you  will  not  be  a  little  girl 
by  the  time  you  have  done  all  that,"  replied  Emily  ; 
"  you  will  be  quite  grown  up.  And  I  am  not  sure, 
but  I  do  not  think  you  would  quite  like  to  sing  and 
play  to  every  one,  just  that  they  might  admire  and 
talk  about  you  V 

"  No  ;  that  is  true,"  answered  Lily,  a  little  daunt- 
ed. "  It  would  take  years  to  be  a  wonder  in  music, 
and  when  I  had  done  I  should  not  at  all  like  to  be 
made  a  show  of :  that  will  not  do  ;  but  what  can  I 
do,  Emily  ]  I  should  like  to  be  first-rate  at  some- 
thing. I  know  if  I  had  eyes  I  would  learn,  and 
learn,  until  I  was  as  clever  as  possible  ;  but  now  I 
can  do  nothing  worth  doing,"  added  she,  in  some- 
what of  a  repining  tone. 

"  Can  ray  Lily  really  do  nothing  worth  doing  ?  " 
said  Everard,  entering  the  room   at  the   moment. 


AMBITION    CORRECTED.  303 

"  Why,  I  thought  my  little  sister  had  quite  settled 
what  she  was  going  to  do,  and  not  only  so,  but  had 
made  some  progress  in  her  chosen  path.  What  is 
all  this  about,  Mufti  ?"  (a  pet  name  of  Evra's  own 
special  invontion).  "  What  do  you  want  to  do, 
dear  ?"  said  he,  seating  himself  on  an  easy  chair,  and 
Lily  on  his  knee. 

Lily,  who  was  half  a'shamed  of  her  aspirations, 
was  not  quite  willing  to  tell  what  had  been  the  sub- 
ject of  her  conversation  with  Emily,  She,  however, 
could  not  escape ;  so,  with  a  few  blushes,  she  con- 
fided to  Evra  her  earnest  desire  for  distinction,  ad- 
ding, •'  Can  you  tell  me  anything  that  I  might  learn 
to  do  very  we'll,  Evra  ?  You  know  it  is  right  to 
use  the  talents  that  God  has  given  us,  and  papa  says 
that  if  God  has  seen  fit  to  take  away  one  power,  we 
should  try  to  do  the  more  with  those  powers  that 
remain." 

"  Very  true,  Muf."  replied  her  brother  ;  "  but  tell 
me,  little  one,  why  you  are  so  anxious  to  excel  in 
some  one  thing?" 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  pleasant  to  be  famous,  Evra," 
replied  Lily. 

"  Oh  ho  !  you  are  ambitious,  Missy  !  that  is  it," 
said  Evra,  laughing. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  you  may  do,  dearest," 


304  BLIND    LILIAS. 

continued  he,  gravely  and  tenderly,  aftei-  a  short 
pause ;  "  I  have  read  of  a  little  child  who  has  been 
spoken  of  and  set  forth  as  an  example  for  centuries 
past,  I  do  not  know  the  name  of  the  child,  nor  its 
age ;  I  do  not  even  know  whether  it  was  a  boy  or 
gii'l ;  but  it  has  become  very  famous,  and  I  should 
like  you  to  be  like  it.  Who  can  tell  me  who  or 
what  that  child  was  1 "  added  he,  turning  first  to 
Emily  and  then  to  Lily  with  an  inquiring  look. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  cannot  think,  Evra,"  said  Lily  ;  "  you 
don't  know  whether  it  was  a  boy  or  girl,  or  how 
old  it  was,  or  aiiy thing  about  it,  and  yet  you  say 
that  it  has  been  famous  for  centuries.  I  know  now," 
added  she,  after  a  short  time  of  consideration  ;  "  it 
was  that  Spartan  child  who  let  the  fox  he  had  stolen 
bite  and  ©at  him,  and  would  not  make  a  sound  ; 
was  it,  Ev  ?" 

"  That  was  a  boy,  Lily,"  said  Emily,  "  and  your 
brother  says  he  does  not  know  whether  the  one  he 
speaks  of  was  a  boy  or  a  girl.  No,  /think  Mr. 
Evcrard  means  something  different  from  that^'' 
continued  she  blushing,  with  the  timid  feeling  that 
perhaps  she  was  wrong. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Emmy  ?  don't  be  afraid, 
dear ;  speak  out,  and  if  you  are  wrong,  I  will  tell 
you,"  replied  Everard. 


AMBITION    CORRECTED.  305 

"  Well,  then,"  replied  Emily,  "  I  flincied,  but 
perhaps  it  was  not  right,  that  you  meant  that  little 
child  that  Jesus  took,  and  set  him  in  the  midst, 
and  told  those  who  wanted  to  be  great,  to  be  like 
that  child." 

"  And  you  were  right,  my  dear.  I  did  mean 
that  child,  and  I  should  like  you  both  to  be  such  as 
it  was.  Be  foremost  in  humility,  in  obedience,  in 
zeal  for  God's  glory,  above  all,  in  love,  and  you 
will  have  such  distinction  as  neither  man  nor  an- 
gel can  take  from  you,  the  distinction  of  God's 
approval." 

"  Yes,  dear  Evra,"  said  Lily  ;  "  that  would  be 
best,  and  I  should  be  glad  enough  to  have  that  best 
honor.  But  I  might  have  that,  and  yet  excel  in 
some  point  of  learning,  or  some  accomplishment, 
too ;  might  I  not  ?  You  know  what  I  mean.  I 
should  like  so  much  to  be  able  to  do  something 
clever,  something  that  you  might  all  be  proud  of 
me,  and  that  people  would  praise  and  admire  me 
for ;  you  know  it  would  not  be  right  for  them  to 
piaise  and  admire  mc  for  humility,  or  goodness, 
and  I  should  not  like  it  either — I  mean  not  to  be 
noticed  and  talked  about  for  such  things,  because 
the  glory  and  credit  of  it  all  ought  to  be  given  to 
God,  and  not  to  me !  " 

26* 


306  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  True,  dear,"  iinswered  Everard  ;  "  but  tell  me, 
if  God  gives  to  any  one  great  abilities,  or  wonder- 
ful musical  powers,  or  anything  else  beyond  what 
is  common,  is  not  that  person  called  on  to  give  the 
honor  and  glory  of  them  to  Him  ?  have  you  a  right 
to  cultivate  and  use  those  gifts  for  the  purpose  of 
making  your  family  proud  of  you,  and  of  being  ad- 
mii'ed,  and  sought  after,  and  praised  for  them  ? 
Surely,  my  little  sister,  the  praise  belongs  to  Him 
who  gave  the  powers,  and  not  to  him  who  possesses 
them  1  And  do  not  you  think  also,  that  the  eager 
seeking  for  distinction,  which  seems  at  present  to 
possess  you,  is  not  unlikely  to  hinder  you  from  at- 
taining to  that  better  greatness  of  which  we  have 
been  speaking  V 

"  Yes,  Evra,"  said  Lily,  after  a  little  thought.  "  I 
suppose  it  might  be  more  likely  to  make  me  proud 
than  humble,  if  I  were  to  become  so  much  noticed 
and  praised.  And  so  then,  perhaps,  I  had  better 
not  try  to  get  on  so  fast  with  things." 

"  My  dear  child,  get  on  as  fast  as  ever  you  can  ; 
make  the  very  best  of  the  abilities  and  powers  that 
God  has  given  you.  Try  to  excel  to  the  utmost,  in 
anything  you  like,  so  that  you  do  not  devote  time 
to  one  thing  that  ought  to  be  given  to  another ; 
only  do  not  do  it   that  you  may  obtain  praise  of 


AMBITION    CORRECTED.  *  307 

men,  or  become  exalted  in  their  sight,  but  do  it  '  to 
the  glory  of  God.'  Make  the  best  of  every  talent, 
and  present  the  proceeds  to  God,  saying,  '  We  are 
unprofitable  servants  ;  we  have  done  that  which  was 
our  duty  to  do.'  " 

"  Well,  Everard,"  replied  Lilias,  throwing  her 
arms  round  his  neck,  and  giving  him  a  loving  kiss, 
"I  believe  you  are  right,  and  I  will  try  to  grow 
better,  and  more  humble,  and  go  on  learning  to 
agi'ee  with  God,  and  be  contented  to  be  just  what 
He  pleases,  and  use  His  gifts  to  His  glory,  and  not 
to  my  own." 

"  And  now,  that  this  long  talk  is  ended,"  said 
Everard,  "  wlm  will  like  to  go  with  me,  and  sec  the 
sliding  on  the  common  ?  The  pond  is  all  covered 
with  thick  ice,  and  I  shall  take  my  skates,  and  will 
give  you  each  a  slide  in  a  chair  on  runners." 

"  Oh,  what  fun  !"  shouted  the  little  girls ;  "  do 
wait  for  us,  we  will  not  be  a  minute  dressing,"  and 
off  they  started,  and  soon  returned,  equipped  for  a 
winter's  walk ;  and  before  many  minutes  had 
elapsed,  Everard,  with  his  two  little  companions, 
together  with  Helen  and  Robina  Eraser,  Maud  and 
Mabel,  were  before  the  windows  of  the  Dormers' 
cottage,  summoning  the  other  girls  to  come  out,  and 
join  them  in  their  excursion,  and  then  all  the  party 
proceeded  together  to  the  scene  of  action. 


308  BLIND    LILIAS. 

It  was  a  brilliant  morning.  The  sun  shone  bright 
and  clear,  and  the  objects  which  it  lit  up  were  most 
lovely.  Some  hours  of  drizzling  rain  and  fog,  fall- 
ing through  a  very  still  atmosphere,  had  been  suc- 
ceeded by  a  sharp  and  sudden  frost,  which  had  pre- 
vailed for  twenty-four  hours  with  unbroken  force. 
The  result  of  this  was,  that  every  stem  and  branch, 
and  even  the  most  minute  things  on  eveiy  tree  and 
shrub,  were  coated  with  ice  and  tipped  with  glitter- 
ing icicles,  and  that  the  grass  and  herbage  were  com- 
pletely crusted  over  with  a  covering  of  pure  white 
hoar-frost,  the  particles  of  frozen  water  ramifying 
in  every  direction,  and  each  glittering  with  diamond- 
like  lustre  as  it  caught  the  sunlight  on  its  polished 
surface.  The  brook  was  ice-bound,  but  at  a  lower 
level  than  that  at  which  it  had  flowed  the  day  be- 
fore the  frost  interrupted  its  progress,  and  in  conse- 
quence the  roots  of  trees  and  shrubs  which  grew  on 
the  banks  were  uncovered,  and  stood  out  now  all 
one  mass  of  frostwork  on  both  sides  the  brook — 

""With  forms  so  various  that  no  powers  of  art, 
The  pencil  or  the  pen,  can  trace  the  scene ! 
Here  glittering  turrets  rise  upheaving  high 
(Fantastic  misarrangement)  ;  on  the  roof 
Large  growth  of  what  may  seem  the  sparkling  trees 

.  And  shrubs  of  Fairy- land.     The  crystal  drops, 
That  trickle  down  the  branches,  fast  congeal'd, 
Shoot  into  pillars  of  pellucid  length, 
And  prop  the  pile  they  but  adorned  before." 


AMBITION    CORRECTED.  309 

There,  too,  rose  groups  of  the  beautiful  male  fern, 
like  icy  crowns  ;  and  tufts  of  the  lovely  hart's- 
tongue — the  brilliant  green  of  its  fronds  but  half 
concealed  by  the  white  frosting  which  partially 
coated  thena — hung  heavy  with  their  newly  acquired 
clothing,  quite  to  the  sift-face  of  the  spell-bound 
stream,  looking  like  a  crystal  fairy  forest,  so  white 
and  glittering  and  delicate. 

All  these  fair  visions  were  unseen  by  poor  Lily, 
but  she  could  hear  the  sweet  voices  which  filled  the 
air,  the  crisp  sounds  of  the  ice  as  it  crackled  beneath 
their  feet,  and  the  song  of  the  robin,  as, 

"  Content 
With  slender  notes,  and  more  than  half  suppress'd, 
Pleased  with  his  solitude,  and  flitting  light 
From  spray  to  spray,  where'er  he  rests  he  shakes 
From  many  a  twig  the  pendent  drops  of  ice, 
That  tinkle  in  the  withered  leaves  below." 

All  this  Lilias  could  hear  and  enjoy  ;  and  also  the 
merry  voices  of  boys  and  girls,  who,  released  from 
school  by  the  Christmas  holidays,  were  hastening  to 
share  the  fun  and  pleasure  which  the  frozen  pond 
was  sure  to  afford  them.  It  was  a  gay  and  pretty 
scene  that  awaited  our  party  when  they  arrived 
there.  A  fine  broad  piece  of  water,  now  converted 
into  ice,  so  solid  as  to  be  quite  safe  ground  for  the 


310  .    BLIND    LILIAS. 

many  sliders  and  skaters  who  already  occupied  it, 
lay  before  them,  surrounded  by  an  open  common, 
now  well  peopled  with  human  beings,  of  all  classes 
and  ages,  from  Coombhurst  and  the  neighboring 
villages,  all  in  high  spirits  and  prepared  for  enjoy- 
ment. There  were  childifcn  in  their  gay  plaids  and 
winter  coats  of  many  colors,  ladies  in  their  scarlet 
and  blue  and  other  gay-tinted  cloaks  and  shawls, 
and  roughly-clad  men  and  boys,  together  with  little 
ones  from  the  village  schools — some  shouting  and 
running,  others  walking  in  merry  groups  chatting 
together,  but  all  in  holiday  spirits  and  glee. 

A  couple  of  hours  were  soon  passed  in  the  pleas- 
ant amusements  of  sliding  and  skating,  and  the  little 
girls  exceedingly  enjoyed  the  new  amusement  of 
being  pushed  about  in  chairs  on  the  ice  by  their 
brothers ;  for  Vernon  and  Edward,  who  were,  of 
course,  there,  were  both  able  to  skate,  and  Vernon 
was  allowed  to  share  in  pushing  them,  although 
Edward  was  not  considered  quite  strong  enough  to 
manage  more  than  his  own  movements. 

It  was  a  day  of  great  excitement  and  delight  to 
the  little  girls,  and  they  went  home  in  full  anticipa- 
tion of  another  sliding-party  on  the  next  day. 

Little  was  talked  of  in  the  evening  but  the  ex- 
ploits of  the  skaters  and    the  fun  of  the   sort   of 


AMBITION    CORRECTED.  311 

sleigh  travelling  that  the  chairs  had  afforded  ;  and 
many  of  tlie  customs  of  different  countries  connec- 
ted with  sleighing,  and  ice  and  snow  travelling,  were 
referred  to,  and  passages  from  different  authors  were 
read,  and  places  looked  out  on  the  map ;  so  that 
quite  a  new  impulse  seemed  to  have  been  commu- 
nicated to  the  whole  party,  and  all  separated  for  the 
night  in  eager  anticipation  of  the  next  day's  pleas- 
ures. 

But  snow  and  ice  are  rare  visitors  at  Torquay 
and  in  its  neighborhood,  and  when  they  do  come  ifc 
seems  that  they  find  something  that  does  not  suit 
them  in  that  district,  for  rarely  do  they  extend  the 
pleasures  which  their  unfrequent  visits  afford  for  a 
longer  period  than  a  day  or  two.  It  was  so  in  this 
instance.  A  thaw  occurred  in  the  night,  accom- 
panied by  soft  rain,  and  before  morning  the  brook 
ran  freely  on  its  course,  the  ducks  found  their  usual 
passage  through  the  waters  of  the  pond,  unimpeded 
by  ice  ;  and  the  fiiiry  columns  and  capitals  which 
had  sprung  up  so  suddenly  amongst  the  water- 
courses, and  suspended  themselves  from  the  eaves 
of  the  houses,  had  all  melted  away, 

"  And,  liko  tho  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Left  not  a  nick  behind." 


XXIX. 

ILL  TEMPER  OYERCOMB. 

LAS  !  that  we  should  have  to  recount  so  sor- 
rowful a  fact ;  with  the  melting  of  the  ice  so 
melted  Lily's  temper.  She  woke  the  next 
morning  with  her  mind  full  of  anticipated  pleasure ; 
and  when  nurse  came  to  call  her  little  one,  Lily 
began  to  dilate  on  the  expected  enjoyment  that  lay 
before  her,  when,  to  her  infinite  dismay,  she  learned 
that  all  hope  of  the  kind  must  be  laid  aside,  for 
that  although  it  did  not  then  rain,  yet  the  frost  was 
all  quite  gone,  and  sliding  was  an  impossibility. 

Much  annoyed  and  out  of  humor,  she  descended 
to  the  breakfast-room  ;  but  she  had  sufficient  com- 
mand over  herself  not  to  allow  anything  that  might 
indicate  the  state  of  her  mind  to  appear.  The 
meal  over,  she  proceeded  to  the  study,  and  after 
the  usual  family  Scripture-reading  was  over,  she  was 
left  alone  with  directions  to  employ  herself  in  pre- 
paring some  French  sentences  in  her  mind,  in  readi- 
ness to  repeat  them  to  her  sister  when  she  should 
be    ready   to    hear    her — an   employment    which 


ILL    TEMPER    OVERCOME.  313 

always  formed  a  part  of  her  morning  lessons — 
when  the  door  opened,  and,  instead  of  Maud, 
Emily  and  Blanche  Dormer  bounded  into  the 
room,  wild  with  glee;  and  throwing  her  arms 
round  Lily,  and  giving  her  a  violent  embrace  and 
kiss,  Emily  exclaimed,  "  Joy,  Lily,  joy  !  wish  us 
joy,  for  we  are  going  to  have  such  a  treat.  Guess, 
Lily;  what  is  it?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  have  not  an  idea,  Em,"  replied 
Lilias.  "What  can  it  be?  what  ai-e  we  going  to 
do?" 

'•  Oh,  not  you — only  Blanche  and  I.  1  wish  it 
were  you  too,  dear  Lily  ;  that  is  the  only  draw- 
back to  our  pleasure,  or  nearly  the  only  one.  My 
aunt  has  decided  to  let  us  go  to  Scotland,  to  stay 
with  Aunt  Montrose,  and  Janet,  and  our  other 
cousins  that  we  so  much  wish  to  see.  We  are  to 
go  under  Mr.  Eraser's  care,  and  travel  with  Mabel 
and  Robina  and  Helen,  and  to  stay  there  three  or 
four  months.  Aunt  Stirling  wanted  Rosalie  too; 
but  Aunt  Evelyn  said  she  could  not  spare  her,  for 
that  she  must  go  on  with  her  studies,  but  that  wo 
little  ones  might  go.     Won't  it  be  nice,  Lil?" 

"  Oh,  very,  I  dare  say,''  replied  Lily,  whose  face, 
whilst  Emily  was  speaking,  had  assumed  its  old 
proud,  impassive  expn^ssiiju. 


314  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"I  wish  you  were  going  too,  clearest  Lily,"  said 
poor  Emily,  who  felt  that  in  her  first  eagerness  she 
had  too  much  lost  sight  of  Lilias's  feelings  and  of 
her  own  real  sorrow  at  being  separated  from  hei 
friend,  "  I  wish  it  so  much,  but  you  know  that 
cannot  be ;  but  I  shall  be  so  sorry  to  leave  you, 
poor,  dear  darling ;"  and  the  affectionate  child  put 
her  arm  round  the  waist  of  her  little  friend,  and 
was  going  to  kiss  her,  when  Lilias  coldly  withdrew 
from  her,  and  replied  in  a  disagreeable,  rude  tone — 

"  Yes,  no  doubt ;  it  looks  like  it." 

"  But  indeed  I  am,  Lily — we  both  are,  are  we  not, 
Blanche?  but,  you  know,  of  course  we  like  all  the 
pleasure  of  such  a  long  journey,  and  to  see  the  new 
I'laces,  and  all  our  dear  cousins  and  relations,  and 
to  be  visiting  so  much,"  said  Emily,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  "  Now,  don't  be  vexed,  Lilias.  You 
know  I  love  no  one  so  well  as  I  do  you  ;  and  I 
shall  write  to  you  very  often,  and  when  we  come 
back  we  shall  be  so  happy  together  again." 

"  Everybody  will  go  away,  I  suppose,  and  leave 
me  to  do  as  well  as  I  can  by  myself,"  said  Lilias, 
angrily,  "  I  should  not  have  been  so  glaJ  to  go 
away  from  you,  Emily ;  but  people  are  different 
from  each  other,  and  novelty  pleases  some  better 
than  anything," 


ILL    TEMPER    OVERCOME.  315 

Emily  began  to  cry,  and  Lilias  to  think.  A 
silence  of  a  few  moments  ensued,  and  then  Blanche 
said,  '•  Don't  mind  her,  Emmy — she's  a  cross, 
naughty  girl  to  speak  so  to  you.  You  are  a  bet- 
ter girl  than  she  is,  and  she  does  not  deserve  to  be 
your  friend.     Don't  cry,  dear — never  mind  her." 

"But  I  do  mind,  Blanche,"  said  Emily,  sobbing 
— "  I  do  mind.  I  love  Lily  better  than  all  the 
novelty  in  the  world,  and  1  thought  she  knew  that  I 
did." 

"  And  I  do  know  it,  dear,"  said  Lilias,  "  and  I 
ought  not  to  have  spoken  so.  I  am  very  sorry, 
Emily,  and  it  was  very  naughty  to  say  such  things. 
Blanche  is  quite  right;  I  do  not  deserve  to  have 
you  for  my  friend.  Do  forgive  me.  I  was  vexed 
and  cross  at  seeing  that  you  seemed  to  like  to  go  ; 
but  I  am  sorry  that  I  said  what  I  did." 

Emily  was  not  the  sort  of  child  to  resist  poor 
Lily's  penitent  entreaties  even  for  a  moment,  and 
the  two  little  girls  cemented  their  union  by  an 
affectionate  embrace ;  and  then  they  sat  down  toge- 
ther to  talk  over  the  projected  plan  on  the  most 
amicable  terms  possible. 

But  though  Lilias  was  thus  sorry  for  her  failure 
of  temper,  and  acknowledged  it  in  a  manner  quite 
different  from  what  she  would  have  done  in  former 


316 


BLIND    LILIAS. 


years,  she  was  far  from  being  in  a  right  state  of 
feeling  about  the  prospect  of  losing  Emily.  It 
never  once  occurred  to  her  that  this  minor  trial 
was  a  part  of  God's  dealings  with  her — that  the 
deprivation  of  Emily's  society  was  a  thing  to  be 
accepted  as  from  God,  quite  as  much  as  her  blind- 
ness or  any  heavier  trial;  and  so,  although  no 
longer  cross  to  Emily,  she  allowed  herself  to  re- 
peat over  and  over  again  how  provoking  it  was 
that  she  should  be  going — that  it  would  be  so  dull, 
and  she  should  be  so  wretched,  and  many  other 
foolish  and  rebellious  speeches,  which  only  served 
to  place  her  more  and  more  at  a  distance  from  that 
quiet  and  submissive  spirit  which  she  had  been  so 
carefully  cultivating,  and  of  which  she  had  latterly 
attained  so  much. 


XXX. 

SEPARATION. 

>^'<[i)UT  although  Lilias'  good  resolution  often  failed 
f^  in  the  performance,  and  her  better  nature 
slumbered  and  slept,  she  was  no  longer  "  dead 
ill  trespasses  and  sins."  As  surely  as  she  yielded  to 
lier  impetuous  and  proud  temper,  and  gave  way  to 
repining  and  discontent,  so  surely  did  a  time  of  re- 
gret and  repentance  invariably  follow  ;  and,  as  will 
ever  be  the  case  with  those  who  are  truly  and 
abidingly  under  the  influence  of  the  sanctifying 
Spirit  of  God,  such  seasons  of  failure  and  regret 
were  followed  by  times  of  more  faithfulness ;  and 
from  each  fall,  she  rose  to  fresh  and  stronger  efforts 
to  run  with  patience  the  race  that  was  set  before 
her  ;  and  thus,  though  we  are  obliged  to  confess  that 
our  little  friend  was  still  far  from  what  she  should 
be,  yet  all  who  witnessed  her  daily  walk  and  con- 
versation could  see  that  a  steady  progress  in  good 
things  mai'kcd  her  onward  course. 

It  was  so  in  the  present  instance.     Night  came, 
and  Lilias  sat  down  by  her  bedside,  to  think  over 
27* 


318  BLIND    LILIA8. 

the  events  of  the  day,  before  she  knelt  to  seek  God's 
pardon  for  the  sins  into  which,  during  its  course, 
she  had  fallen,  and  to  pray  for  strength  and  grace 
to  do  better.  She  now  remembered  her  conduct  to 
Emily  in  the  morning  with  contrition,  and  also  her 
many  repining  thoughts  and  words,  and  became 
conscious  how  little  her  behavior  had  been  in  ac- 
cordance with  her  professed  desire  to  accept  the 
whole  will  of  God — to  let  Him  direct  her  path,  and 
projDortion  her  pains  and  pleasures — how  little  it 
had  been  likely  to  improve  her  young  companions, 
and  lead  them  to  honor  God. 

With  these  thoughts  in  her  mind,  Lily  knelt  and 
prayed  earnestly,  and  with  perhaps  more  humility 
than  of  late,  for  she  felt  her  weakness,  and  longed  for 
better  strength  ;  and  having  done  so,  she  lay  down  to 
rest,  resolved  that  in  the  morning  she  would  tell  both 
Emily  and  Blanche  how  sorry  she  was,  and  how 
conscious  of  having  done  wrong,  and  with  a  settled 
determination  to  be  more  watchful  for  the  future. 

"Of  course,"  thought,  she,  "some  of  the  things 
that  are  to  happen  to  me  will  be  painful  and  dis- 
agreeable, and  sometimes  it  will  be  in  one  way  and 
sometimes  in  another  that  I  shall  be  tried.  It  is  of 
no  use  to  s;iy  that  I  like  God  to  do  all  the  things  in 
His  own  way,  and  to  let  me  have  '  fellowship'  with 


SEPARATION.  319 

Him,  and  work  with  Him,  and  then  to  grumble  and 
fret  if  the  way  He  fixes  on  is  one  I  dislike  !  I  must 
take  it  all — little  trials  and  i^reat  ones,  pleasant  and 
disagreeable — and  be  as  cheerful  as  the  angels  would 
be.  They  would  not  grumble.  They  are  minister- 
ing spirits  sent  to  do  His  will,  and  they  do  exactly 
what  God  bids  them,  and  are  always  praising  Him, 
and  so  must  I.''  And  so,  meditating  on  the  angels 
and  their  employments,  her  thoughts  ran  on  to  con- 
sidering what  were  the  occupations  and  delights  of 
the  saints  in  heaven,  until  she  slept  a  happy  peace- 
ful sleep,  full  of  sweet  dreams  and  thoughts  of  the 
holy  and  heavenly  places,  with  their  myriads  of 
rejoicing  inhabitants ;  and  fancied  herself  there  be- 
fore the  .throne,  her  closed-up  eyes  opened  to  be- 
hold "Him  who  sitteth  thereon,"  her  voice  joined 
with  the  angelic  choir  and  their  heaven-tuned  harps, 
and  Emily,  and  Blanche,  and  the  sweet  little  sing- 
ers at  Abbotsleigh,  all  gathered  round. 

And  so  she  slept  until  the  morning  sounds  waken- 
ed her  to  life  and  action,  and  she  sprang  from  her 
bed  full  of  happy  thoughts,  feeling  quite  willing  to 
part  with  Mabel,  and  with  Emily,  and  with  any 
others,  if  God  called  them. 

In  this  peaceful  frame  of  mind,  Lilias  made  her 
appearance  at  the  breakfast-table,  and  throughout 


320  BLIND    LILIAS. 

the  day  all  were  struck  by  her  sweet  and  pleasant 
manner. 

The  proposed  admissions  of  her  having  been  in 
fault  were  frankly  made  to  Emily  and  Blanche,  who 
came  early  to  spend  the  day ;  and  instead  of  com- 
plaining as  she  had  done  the  day  before,  she  entered 
affectionately  and  cheerfully  into  their  anticipations 
of  pleasure,  asked  a  hundred  questions  about  the 
family  they  were  going  to  visit,  and  the  way  they 
were  to  go,  and  begged  them  to  write  as  often  as 
they  could.  "  But  not  to  worry  yourself,  Emmy," 
added  she,  "  because  when  you  are  from  home,  per- 
haps you  will  not  have  much  time,  and  though  I 
shall  long  for  your  letters,  and  get  papa  or  Maud  to 
write  for  me  very  often,  I  shall  never  think,  dear, 
that  it  is  because  you  do  not  love  me,  or  wish  to 
write,  if  your  letters  are  long  in  coming,  for  I  know 
you  do  love  me  !  and  you  will  talk  to  Janet  about 
me,  won't  you  ?  If  she  should  come  back  with 
you,  what  friends  we  shall  all  be,  and  how  nice  it 
will  be?" 

The  little  girls  had  an  immense  deal  to  settle  to- 
gether, on  such  important  matters  as  children  usual- 
ly consult  much  over — what  dolls  Blanche  should 
take,  and  what  clothing  the  said  dolls  would  re- 
quire;  whether  the  blue-eyed  Alice,  or  the  brown- 


SEPARATION. 


321 


haired  Helen  should  go,  and  whether  the  baby 
should  go  or  stay.  Then  Emily  wished  to  take 
some  of  Lilias's  books  for  her  cousins  to  read,  and 
Lily  begged  to  be  allowed  to  have  Fata  to  stay 
with  her  during  their  absence. 

But  there  were  more  important  points  than  these 
to  discuss,  for  all  the  children  had  an  interest 
amongst  the  poor  and  in  the  village  school,  and  Em- 
ily had  been  intrusted  with  a  class  ;  and  now  she 
thought  that  Lilias.  notwithstanding  her  blindness, 
might  go  on  teaching  the  children  until  her  own  re- 
turn, so  that  her  pupils  might  be  kept  together. 
This  Lilias  thought  very  possible,  as  she  knew  a 
great  part  of  the  Psalms  and  Gospels  by  heart,  and 
so  could  hear  the  little  ones  read,  and  correct  them 
when  wrong,  and  could,  of  course,  give  them  a  little 
simple  instruction,  such  as  the  very  young  children 
of  whom  Emily  had  charge  required  ;  and  as  to 
their  hymns,  or  any  lessons  that  she  did  not  know, 
she  could  "  get  Maud  or  Meta  just  to  hear  that." 
This  idea  was  most  delightful  to  Lilias,  and  she  be- 
gan to  feel  that  there  wore  yet  pleasures  in  store  for 
her,  and  lo  recognize  the  truth,  that  when  God  takes 
one  thing  away  he  usually  gives  another  in  compen- 
sation ;  and  that  the  spirit  to  accept  tlie  new  gift, 


322  BLIND    LILIAB. 

instead  of  that  of  repining  for  the  old,  is  one  of  the 

best  springs  of  happiness  that  we  can  have. 

February  opened  with  clear  bright  weather. 
There  lay  a  little  snow  on  the  ground,  just  a  mere 
sprinkling,  through  which  the  green  grass  peeped 
up  to  the  light,  and  over  which  the  delicate  snow- 
drops hung  their  pure  white  blossoms  in  abundant 
clusters,  rivalling  the  snow  Itself  in  whiteness.  The 
catkins,  pendent  on  the  hazel,  scattered  their  golden 
powder  on  the  air,  as  the  soft  breeze  shook  them, 
and  the  little  lambs,  now  numerous  in  the  pastures, 
ran  bleating  about  in  merry  groups,  rejoicing  in  the 
clear  sunshine.  Such  was  the  scene  without ; 
within  it  was  less  cheerful.  The  beloved  grand- 
father, whose  vigorous  intellect  had  animated,  whilst 
his  loving  spirit  had  cheered  and  won  every  mem- 
ber of  the  household  at  the  Grange,  was  gone ; 
Mabel,  the  merry,  guileless,  blithe  Mabel,  was 
gone  ;  Robina  and  Helen,  with  their  fine  pure  Scotch 
accent,  and  their  bonny  fiices  and  lively  spirits, 
were  gone ;  and,  worst  of  all  to  Lilias,  her  own 
dear  Emily  and  Blanche  were  gone — Emily,  the 
faithful  and  trusty  friend,  the  wise  little  counsellor, 
the  sweet-tempered,  unselfish  Emily,  was  gone  for 
months ;  and  the  little  blind  Lilias  could  no  longer 
have  the  guidance  of  that  dear  little  hand,  which  for 


SEPARATION.  323 

such  a  long  time  past,  had  always  been  ready  to 
lead  her  through  her  noonday  darkness;  nor  the 
help  of  that  kind  soft  voice  to  read  to  her,  and  to 
tell  her  all  those  watchful  observing  eyes  noted,  as 
they  walked  or  played  together  !  Only  the  day  be- 
fore had  the  whole  party  started  for  their  northern 
journey,  and  those  whom  they  had  left  behind  were 
now  in  their  first  stage  of  that  heaviness  of  spirit 
which  oppresses  those  who  have  parted  with  dearest 
friends,  yet  have  not  the  excitement  of  travelling 
and  change  to  distract  their  attention. 

Lilias  was  sad,  but  slie  had  now  advanced  so  far 
in  her  spiritual  course,  that  though  perhaps  she 
talked  less  of  her  desire  to  consent  to  the  will  of 
God  in  all  things,  and  yield  herself  up  to  Him  to 
do  all  in  His  own  way,  yet  she  was  not  less  desirous 
to  be  enabled  to  do  so  ;  and  the  present  trial  found 
her  in  an  humble  and  submissive  state  of  mind. 
She  had  known  that  the  trouble  was  approaching; 
at  the  first  intimation  of  it  she  had,  as  we  have 
seen,  given  way  to  tempei-,  and  shown  an  insubordi- 
nate spirit ;  but  happily  she  had  soon  detected  this, 
and  had  steadily  set  herself  to  conquer  self]  and 
submit  cheerfully  to  the  deprivations  which  must 
necessarily  follow  on  the  loss  of  so  many  beloved 
friends ;  and,  therefore,   allhougli    it    was   a   great 


324  BLIND    LILIAS. 

struggle  to  the  little  girl,  and  she  was  in  heart  sad, 
she  rose  to  meet  the  emergency  with  cheerfulness, 
and  addressed  herself  with  alacrity  to  doing  all  that 
lay  in  her  power  to  brighten  the  spirits  of  her 
father  and  Maud. 

"  Papa,*'  said  she,  as  soon  as  the  breakfast  things 
were  cleared,  "  you  know  it  won't  do  for  us  to  sit 
down  and  be  dull.  Won't  you  and  Maud  take  me 
for  a  walk  1  It  is  sweet  sunshine  ;  T  can  feel  that. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  should  like,  papa,  shall  I  f 

"  Do,  my  pet,"  replied  her  father  ;  "  I  feel  as  if  I 
should  like  to  sit  down,  and  moan  over  the  loss  of 
all  our  dear  ones  !  but,  as  you  say,  Muf,  that  will 
not  do.  Come,  what  shall  we  do  1  tell  us  your 
plan,  Lil,  and  then  Maud  shall  say  what  she  thinks 
of  it." 

"  Well  then,  papa ;  I  think  we  might  set  out  di- 
rectly, go  all  round  by  the  brook,  and  I  suspect  we 
shall  find  snowdrops — bulbous  violets,  old  Gerarde 
calls  them,  though  I  never  can  tell  why,  for  they 
are  not  a  bit  like  violets.  Well,  there  we  shall 
find  them,  and  you  can  show  me  where,  and  I  can 
pick  them  myself;  and  then  we  will  go  to  Abbots- 
leigh,  and  call  on  old  Mrs,  Sutor,  and  take  her  the 
snowdrops,  because  I  promised  I  would  take  her  the 
first  I  picked  ;  and  then  we  can  go  to  Mr.  Gambler's 


SEPARATION.  325 

lodgings,  and  ask  when  he  is  coming  back.  That 
will  be  a  comfort,  father  dear,  when  we  get  him 
back,  won't  it  1" 

"  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  him,  my  love,"  replied  her 
father ;  '•  there  are  few  such  as  he  is."  He  spoke 
with  a  sigh,  which  Lily — whose  ear  now  so  much 
supplied  the  place  of  sight — instantly  noticed.  She 
had  not,  as  we  have  already  said,  been  told  of  Mr. 
Gambler's  proposed  departure,  nor,  indeed,  had  any 
except  Everard,  whom  it  so  neai'ly  concerned  ;  so 
that  she  was  naturally  building  her  hopes  of  a 
happy  and  pleasant  summer  with  his  frequent  com- 
panionship, and  many  a  delightful  walk  and  ride  of 
old. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh,  papa  ?"  asked  she ;  "  you 
have  not  heard  anything  about  him,  have  you  1  he 
is  not  ill  r 

"  No,  my  love,"  answered  Mr.  Hope  ;  "  not  that 
I  have  heard  of  We  will  follow  your  plan,  my 
child,  if  Maud  likes." 

IMaud  gave  a  willing  assent,  and  the  little  party 
prepared  for  their  walk. 


XXXI. 

MENTi^L  :&ND  SPIRITUiiL  YISION. 

"  (^  ND  now,  papa,"  asked  Lily,  as  they  walked 
/^\  across  the  meadows  towards  the  brook,  "  do 
not  you  think  I  might  begin  to  have  the  lit- 
tle twins,  as  yoii  promised  me,  at  Christmas  ?  I 
will  do  as  you  bid  me,  and  take  great  care  not  to 
say  too  much  of  praise,  and  make  them  vain.  I 
should  like  to  teach  them  only  sacred  music,  and 
let  them  learn  psalms  and  hymns,  the  words  I 
mean,  and  say  them  to  me,  and  then  I  can  explain 
their  meaning  a  little,  because  you  know,  of  course, 
as  I  am  older,  and  have  been  better  taught  than 
they  have,  I  know  more  than  they  do ;  and  so,  if 
by  first  repeating  the  words,  and  talking  and  think- 
ing over  the  meaning  and  the  doctrine  they  teach, 
we  can  get  to  feel  them,  and  think  about  God  whilst 
wo  are  singing,  I  think  we  shall  not  be  so  much 
taken  up  with  ourselves.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Maud  r' 

"  Yes,  darling,"  replied    Maud,   "  I  think    your 
plan  is  a  very  good  one.     But  I  should  like  to  help 


MENTAL    AND    SPIKITUAL    VISION.  327 

you ;  would  it  lessen  your  pleasure,  or  make  you 
feel  shy  and  uncomfortable  if  I  were  to  be  present, 
when  I  can  spare  time  ?  1  think,  perhaps,  I  should 
be  of  some  help  to  you  all." 

'■  Oh,  thank  you,  Maud,"  said  Lily,  kissing  her 
sister's  hand,  as  was  her  wont  to  do  when  much 
pleased.  "  You  make  me  feel  uncomfortable,  or 
lessen  my  pleasure  !  I  should  think  not,  indeed  ; 
and  now,  papa,  with  Maudie  to  help,  1-am  sui-e  you 
will  not  be  afraid  to  trust  me,  and  we  might  call 
to-day,  and  ask  Mrs.  Burton  about  letting  them 
come." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  how  it  shall  lie,  niy  child," 
said  Mr.  Hope.  "  I  confess  Maud's  offer  makes 
me  better  pleased  with  the  plan,  for  you  are  so 
thoughtless,  and  so  likely  to  overpraise  the  poor 
little  things  (whose  singing  certainly  is  wonderful), 
that  I  was  half  afraid  that  more  harm  than  good 
would  be  done.  As  there  is  no  school  on  Satui-- 
days,  we  will  ask  their  mother  to  spare  them  for 
the  whole  day,  and  let  them  come  at  twelve  o'clock, 
have  their  dinner  with  the  servants,  and  their  les- 
son afterwards,  and  get  home  before  dusk  ;  we  will 
try  it  once  first,  before  we  promise  anything,  but 
if  they  really  prove  to  be  nice,  well-behaved  chil- 
dren, and  you  like  it,  1  will  allow  them  to  do  so 


328  liLIND    LII.IA8, 

every  week  through  the  summer.  You  have  no 
objection,  dear  V  asked  he  of  Maud. 

"  Not  the  least,  dear  father,"  replied  Maud.  "  I 
think  in  many  ways  it  will  be  good  both  for  Lily 
and  the  little  ones,  and  I  shall  gladly  share  in  their 
teaching." 

"  Oh,  how  very  kind,  dearest  of  kind  papas,  and 
best  of  all  kind  sisters,"  said  Lily,  jumping  about, 
and  making  such  demonstrations  of  glee,  as  made 
her  father  and  sister  laugh  at  her.  Presently  she 
began  to  lilrat  like  the  lambs,  and  invited  Maud  to 
a  run  aftei-  them,  and  then  returning  to  her  father, 
who  was  watching  her  with  affectionate  pity,  she 
said,  "Do  you  remember  that  night  when  you  read 
about  the  sheep,  papa,  till  I  cried  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  my  love,"  replied  Mr.  Hope. 

"  I  never  thought  then,  papa,  that  I  should  have 
been  able  to  like  to  hear  their  pretty  bleating,  and 
to  run  and  enjoy  the  feeling  of  the  air,  and  sun- 
shine, and  the  sounds  of  things  that  I  could  not 
see.  I  thought  I  should  never  care  for  anything 
again  then,  and  now  it  is  all  so  pleasant  and  so 
bright!" 

"  '  None  are  so  deaf  as  those  who  won't  hear,'  is 
an  old  saying,  darling,  and  we  may  also  say  with 
triitli,    'None    are    so  blind    as   those    who    won't 


\ 


MENTAL    AND    SPIRITUAI.    VISION.  321) 

see.'  Y(ju  were,  at  the  time  of  which  you  speak, 
discoiiteiiled  and  rebellious,  resolved  that  as  God 
had  taken  away  the  power  of  sight  from  your  out- 
ward eyes,  you  would  closely  shut  up  your  inward 
and  mental  vision — that  the  eyes  of  your  mind 
should  see  nothing  that  was  lovely  or  bright,  and 
all  should  remain  as  dead  in  the  spirit  as  it  was  in 
the  eyes.  It  was  a  sad  time,  dear,  to  you  and  to  us 
all.  Those  who  '  refuse  to  be  comforted,'  and  reso- 
lutely cherish  misery,  as  you  did,  are  little  aware 
of  the  grief  such  a  course  produces  in  the  hearts  of 
those  whom  they  best  love,  as  well  as  of  the  ex- 
ceeding provocation  it  is  to  God,  thus  to  rebel  when 
His  fatherly  chastisement  visits  us." 

'■  You  were  all  very  kind,  dearest  papa,"  said 
Lilias.  "  I  am  sure  I  must  have  tried  you  all  very 
much ;  but  1  did  not  feel  that  I  was  doing  so  at  the 
time." 

"  Self,  my  child,  was  uppermost ;  that  is  at  the 
root  of  all  inconsolable  grief  I  thank  God,  my 
Lilias,  that  you  have  learned  to  fight  against  this 
tyrant,  self.  I  always  feel  sure,  when  I  see  any 
one  yielding  to  the  imchecked  influence  of  grief, 
however  weighty  may  be  the  cause,  that  other 
chastisements  will  follow,  if  the  mourner  be  a  child 
of  God.  It  is  self  showing  its  pre-eminence  in  the 
28* 


330  BLIND    LILIAS. 

heart,  by  making  its  own  sorrows  the  sole  object 
of  its  contemplation,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  suffer- 
ings which  that  self-concentration  may  inflict  on 
others.  Those  who  do  so,  seem  to  forget  that 
friends  around  in  many  cases  suffer  as  severely  as 
themselves,  from  the  same  stroke  that  is  bowing 
them  to  the  earth,  and  they  do  not  scruple  to  add 
to  that  which  has  broken  down  their  own  mind, 
the  additional  weight  of  their  own  manifest  depres- 
sion." 

" '  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver,'  and  this  applies 
equally,  whether  the  offering  we  make  to  Him  is 
in  the  form  of  money,  of  worldly  goods,  or  of  any 
of  those  dearer  things  which  we  may  be  called  on 
to  give  up,  as  health  or  friends.  Does  it  not, 
papa  ?"  asked  Maud. 

"  I  think  so,  my  dear,"  replied  Mi'.  Hope  ;  "  or 
any  of  the  precious  faculties,  with  which  God  has 
graciously  endowed  us ;  as  you,  my  Lilias,  of  your 
sight." 

"  I  am  sorry,  papa,  very  sorry,"  said  Lilias.  "  I 
have  often  thought  about  how  wrong  I  was ;  but, 
papa,  '  then  I  was  blind — now  I  see  !'  "  said  Lilias, 
the  last  words  after  a  long  pause,  and  with  much 
solemn  feeling ;  and  added  again,  after  a  moment, 
"I  see,  but  not  very  clearly  yet,  papa  ;  it  is  just  as 


MENTAL    AND    SPIKITLA],    VISION.  '381 

if  a  little  corner  of  one  of  my  eyes  were  opened, 
and  I  could  see  one  little  spot,  and  in  that  little 
spot  was  your  dear  kind  hand,  held  out  lor  me  to 
take  hold  of.  I  can  just  see  God's  hand,  and  one 
little  step  before  me  sometimes,  and  sometimes 
something  slips  in  between  me  and  my  little  spot 
of  light,  and  shuts  out  the  sight  of  His  hand  and 
the  right  way,  and  then  I  wander  from  it.'^ 

"  '  Mine  eyes  are  ever  unto  the  Lord,'  says  David  ; 
and  then  we  are  told  to  '  run  with  patience  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us,  looking  unto  Jesus.'  If  you 
see  Him,  you  see  enough  dear.  But  here  we  are 
at  the  brook." 

'•  And  there  are  the  snowdrops,"  exclaimed 
Maud  ;  '•  run  Lily,"  said  she,  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
and  setting  off  at  full  speed  towards  some  very  fine 
roots,  that  sprung  up  among  the  low  bushes  that 
fringed  the  brook. 

'■  Oh,  I  feel  them,"  said  Lilias,  grasping  herlittlo 
hand  full  of  the  fine  long  stems,  with  the  leaves  all 
together.  "  Wliat  beauties,  and  how  sweet  they 
are !"  and  in  a  few  minutes,  all  three  were  as  busy 
gathering  the  lovely  spring  flowers,  as  if  they  were 
all  children  together. 

When   they   had   collected  a  suflicient  quantity, 


332  BLIND    LILIAS. 

they  all  proceeded  with  renewed  spii-its  towards  the 
village,  chatting  pleasantly  as  they  went,  of  the  be- 
loved travellers,  and  of  home  plans,  amongst  which 
the  one  of  the  little  Burtons'  visit  was  not  forgot- 
ten. 


XXXII. 

MR.  GAMBIER^S  HSTURIT- 

fHEIR  fn-yt  call  at  Coombhurst  was  at  a  farm 
called  Abbotsleigh,  on  their  friend  Mrs.  Sutor, 
a  nice  white-haired  old  lady,  the  widow  of  a 
respectable  farmer.  She  was  aged  and  confined  to 
her  chair  by  rheumatic  gout,  but  she  was  one  of  the 
most  cheerful  of  beings,  and  always  delighted  in 
having  flowers,  and  children,  and  birds,  and  kittens, 
and  anything  else  that  spoke  of  life  and  happiness, 
around  her.  Lily  was  a  prime  favorite  with  her, 
and  the  "  little  one,"  as  Mrs.  Sutor  called  her,  found 
great  delight  in  being  always  the  first  to  take  the 
young  flowers  of  each  season  to  her  old  friend.  It 
was  a  sort  of  understood  thing  that  Lilias  was  to 
bring  the  flowers,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  partake 
of  a  glass  of  the  old  lady's  cowslip  wine  ;  and  it 
not  unfrequently  happened,  that  a  piece  of  nice 
home-baked  cake  was  ready  to  be  produced,  though 
sometimes  some  brown  bread  and  butter,  or  bread 
and  cream,  supplied  its  place.  On  this  occasion  the 
whole  party  were  regaled  with  ihe  most  excellent 


334  BLIND    LILIAS. 

bread  and  cream,  and  as  the  good  lady  was  "  well  to 
do  "  in  the  world,  and  was  always  quite  vexed  if 
her  hospitality  was  declined,  Mr.  Hope  made  no 
scruple  of  partaking  of  the  pleasant  f9od  for  which 
their  walk  had  given  them  a  special  inclination,  and 
her  kindness  was  cordially  recognized  by  presents 
of  fruit,  game,  or  any  other  little  delicacy  that  the 
garden  or  larder  of  the  Grange  afforded. 

Lily  was  in  high  glee,  chatting  and  laughing  with 
her  kind  old  friend,  frolicking  with  the  kitten,  and 
feeding  the  bird,  with  pleasant  unrestrained  free- 
dom. She  told  Mrs.  Sutor  of  their  plan  about  the 
little  Burtons,  confiding  to  her,  that  if  they  were 
good  and  nice  children,  they  were  to  come  every 
Saturday,  and  expatiating  largely  on  the  quality  of 
their  voices,  and  the  correctness  of  their  ear. 

"Better  than  that,  dear,  we  may  say  of 'em,  if  all 
tales  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Sutor,  in  her  fine  full  Dev- 
onshire, in  which  all  the  personal  pronouns  that  be- 
long to  a  sentence  are  apt  to  take  the  wrong  places. 
'•  They  'm  geud  little  maids,  and  so  'bedient  and  du- 
tiful to  their  mother  as  ever  was.  One  or  t'  other 
on  'em  do  come  up  to  me  every  morning  for  a  drap 
a  skaal  milk,  that  us  do  gi'e  'em,  and  they  be  all 
ways  so  clean  and  so  tidy,  as  if  they  was  lady's 
children,  wi'  a  nuss  to  look  ater  'em.     Purty  little 


MR.  gambier's  return.  335 

blids  they  be  too,  and  so  handy  !  Lawks,  Miss 
Lily,  if  you  was  to  see  'em  of  a  morning !  There, 
peur  little  dear !  do  'ee  forgive  me,  I  never  gied  a 
thought  aboufyour  peur  dear  eyes!  and  that  ever 
I  should  be  so  stoopid !" 

"  Never  mind,  Mrs.  Sutor,"  said  Lily,  cheerfully  ; 
"  you  know  I'm  used  to  be  blind  now,  and  I  do  not 
mind  people's  forgetting;  do  go  on."  But  Mrs. 
Sutor  was  not  destined  to  go  on,  for  at  this  moment 
the  door  opened  softly,  and  a  head  was  thrust  in  at 
it,  the  sight  of  which  produced  such  a  commotion, 
that  the  little  Burtons  and  all  other  things  were  for- 
gotten, and  thought  of  no  more.  It  was  Mr.  Gam- 
bier  !  He  had  returned  the  night  before,  and,  set- 
ting himself  at  once  to  his  usual  work,  one  of  his 
first  calls  was  at  Mrs.  Sutor's.  Little  did  he  think 
of  the  pleasant  party  he  should  find  there,  but  not 
the  less  was  he  rejoiced  to  sit  down  and  share  the 
fiirm-house  fare  that  stood  before  him  with  those 
dear  friends,  and  not  less  pleased  was  the  good 
widow  to  have  him  as  her  guest. 

'•  'i'here !  now  I've  a  got  all  they  as  I  do  most 
vallee  and  love,  a  saut  down  at  my  table,"  said  she, 
"  and  I  do  bless  the  Lord  that  sent  'em  ;  but  lauks, 
Mr.  Gambler."  added  she  reproachfully,  "  you  bayn't 
half  the  man  you  was  !  why,  you  bo  dwined  away  so. 


336  BLIND    LILIAS. 

you  bayn't  no  more  than  a  spinnel-straw  !  You  do 
want  a  Missis,  sir  !  that's  what  you  do  want !  some- 
body as  '11  see  that  you  do  get  some  victuals  and  look 
ater  ye  a  bit !  Then,  'fore  you  did  goo  away,  ye  did 
waak  and  waak  all  the  day  right  out,  and  ye  don't 
look  as  tho'f  ye  had  rested  yourself  much,  nor  had 
much  victuals  neither,  since  ye  went  away  !  Ye  do 
want  a  good  careful  Missus  to  look  ater  ye,  Mr. 
Gambler,  and  I  do  wish  to  my  heart  ye'd  a  got  one." 
Poor  Mr.  Gambler  did  indeed  look  pale  and  thin, 
for  he  had  encountered  a  good  deal  of  a  trying  na- 
ture in  his  northern  journey,  and  also  looked  for- 
ward with  great  sorrow  to  the  parting  with  dear 
friends  and  valued  parishioners  that  lay  before  him. 
Mr.  Hope  now  rose  and  said  that  they  must  go,  and 
begged  their  friend  to  return  with  them,  and  cheer 
their  little  circle,  which,  he  added,  was  sadly  down- 
cast by  the  departure  of  so  many  dear  ones.  To 
this  he  agreed,  and  Lilias,  overjoyed,  once  more 
found  herself  walking  by  the  side  of  her  dearly 
loved  friend,  holding  his  hand,  and  listening  to  his 
words,  which  to-day,  though  of  a  rather  more  seri- 
ous cast  than  usual,  were  full  of  cheerful  and  thank- 
ful expressions,  and  calculated  to  brighten  the 
spirits  of  the  whole  party.  He  was  always  one 
who   could  forget   his  own    troubles,  or  put   them 


I 


MR.  gambieb's  return.  337 

aside,  when  the  claims  of  others  required  him  to  do 
so ;  and  now  he  gave  out  freely  the  best  treasures 
of  his  cultivated  mind  and  sanctified  spirit,  and  in 
"  watering  others,"  was,  as  is  often  the  case,  "  him- 
self watered,"  for  his  free  and  open  communications 
drew  out  the  secret  stores  of  his  companions'  minds, 
and  acted  as  a  key  whereby  to  unlock  the  sources 
of  their  deeper  and  usually  more  hidden  feelings. 
And  thus  in  happy  interchange  of  thought  passed 
the  time  of  their  walk. 

Lilias  was  silent.  It  was  enough  joy  for  her  to 
hold  the  hand  of  her  friend,  and  to  drink  in  the 
words  of  love  and  wisdom  which  flowed  from  the 
lips  of  those  so  dear  to  her  ;  and  with  her  little 
heart  stirred  up  from  its  lowest  depths,  and  its  best 
sources  of  happiness  all  throwing  up  their  fullest 
streams,  the  little  girl  walked  silently.  Yet  never 
did  she  forget  that  day  and  its  sweet  converse. 

"  We  shall  miss  dear  Helen's  sweet  Scotch  songs, 
Maud,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  after  dinner,  as  the  day 
began  to  close  in  :  "I  did  so  enjoy  her  singing  of 
those  true  old  melodies,  and  it  just  suited — a  sort 
of  music  for  the  gloaming.  But  come,  girls,  if  we 
cannot  have  her  Scotch  songs,  you  can  give  us 
something  else.     Sing,  dear  children." 

"  Lily  will  sing  you  a  song,  papa.'"  said  Maud, 
29 


338  BLIND    LILIAS. 

laughing,  and  urging  Lilias  towards  the  piano, 
though,  wonderful  for  her,  she  seemed  to  hang  back, 
and  whispered  to  Maud. 

"  Nonsense,  dear,"  replied  Maud,  "  why,  you 
never  used  to  mind  Mr,  Gambler — sing,  there's  a 
good  child."  And  Lily,  who  certainly  never  did 
mmd  Mr.  Gambler,  and  who  had  only  now  felt  a 
little  shyness  on  acccount  of  his  having  been  some 
time  absent,  seated  herself,  and  began  to  play, 

"  Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonny  Doon  ;" 

and  sang,  increasing  in  courage  as  she  went  on, 
until  she  showed  that  she  had  fully  gained  her  cou- 
sin's style  of  singing  it,  and  finished  it  most  beau- 
tifully, and  in  the  spirit  of  true  Scotch  minstrelsy, 
Mr.  Hope  was  delighted.  "  You  dear  child," 
said  he,  "  how  glad  I  am  that  you  have  learned  my 
favorite  song  !  Your  dear  mother  used  to  sing  the 
music  of  her  native  land  so  sweetly,  and  your  voice 
grows  so  like  hers,  my  Lily."  But  Lily  agaia 
began  with  an  arch  face  and  merry  tone  to  sing, 

"  Sic  a  wife  as  Willie  had," 

and  then  followed  it  by, 

"  Will  ye  gang  to  the  Ilielands,  Lizzy  Lindsay  ?" 

And  sang  one  after  another  of  Helen's  exhaustless 


MR.  gambier's  return.  339 

store,  and  with  such  pathos  or  mirth,  as  the  song 
required,  that  Mr.  Hope,  who  had  never  heard  her 
do  so  before,  was  quite  amazed. 

After  many  songs,  and  much  approval  from  her 
pleased  father,  she  rose,  and  crowding  into  the  cor- 
ner of  Mr.  Hope's  chair  she  kissed  him  on  his  fore- 
head and  cheeks,  as  it  was  her  habit  to  do  when 
much  delighted,  and  said,  "There,  daddy;  I  knew 
you  would  miss  your  dear  Scotch  songs,  and  so  I 
made  Helen  give  me  lessons,  and  tell  me  how  to 
pronounce  the  words,  and  the  meaning  of  them,  and 
teach  me  the  way  of  singing  them  ;  and  I  can  sing 
all  her  songs  for  you,  papa,  every  one,  I  don't 
think  there  is  one  that  I  have  not  learned  ;  and  it 
was  all  for  you,  my  own  dear  papa.  I  mean  never 
to  sing  one  of  them  to  any  one  but  you  and  those 
to  whom  you  particularly  tell  mc  to  sing  them." 

"Thank  you,  my  darling.  I  prize  one  accom- 
plishment or  art  learned  for  family  uses,  and  to 
please  papa,  far  more  than  a  dozen  acquired  for  the 
purpose  of  gaining  admiration  V 

Lily's  thoughts  glanced  back  to  the  ambitious 
projects  which  had  formerly  possessed  her  mind, 
of  doing  something  that  might  win  her  fame  and 
notice ;  and  remembering  her  dear  brother's  advice 
on  the  subject,  she  became  for  a  moment  so  much 


340  BLIND    LILIAS. 

absorbed  in  thought  as  to  i-eturn  no  answer  to  her 
father's  loving  approval. 

"  Don't  you  think  so  yourself,  dear  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  do,  papa — «ow,"  she  added,  emphatically,  for 
she  deeply  felt  the  precious  privilege  that  it  was  to 
be  able  in  any  way  to  gratify  such  a  fither.  "  It 
certainly  is  better,  much  better,  to  please  you,  than 
to  be  praised  by  strangers ;  and  I  shall  try  and 
keep  all  my  best  things  for  you,  and  for  Maud,  and 
Everard,  and  all  you  home  people,  and  try  also  not 
to  care  about  being  praised  by  outside  people." 

"  But,  Lily,"  asked  Mr.  Gambler,  laughing,  "  I 
should  like  to  know  how  you  class  me  in  this  mat- 
ter ;  do  you  mean  me  to  be  an  '  outside  '  person, 
and  never  to  try  and  please  me  f 

"  No,  Mr.  Gambier,  certainly  not,"  said  Lilias  ; 
"  you  never  can  be  anything  here  but  a  heart  per- 
son. You  are  one  of  the  family,  and  just  exactly 
the  same  as  if  you  were  my  brother.  I  wish  you 
were  my  brother,  and  then  you  would  come  and 
live  with  us.     Wouldn't  it  be  nice,  papa  ?" 

"  Very,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Hope.  "  But 
now,  if  you  are  not  tired,  sing  one  more  of  your 
new  songs,  and  then  I  must  go  and  write  some  let- 
ters before  tea-time." 

Another'  and  yet  another  song   was  sung,  and 


MR.  gambier's  return.  341 

Lily,  exulting  in  the  success  of  her  little  secret  plan 
of  pleasing  her  father,  seemed  as  if  she  would 
never  tire.  Nothing  could  have  been  better  timed  ; 
and  that,  and  the  opportune  return  of  Mr.  Gambier, 
helped  to  make  the  whole  party  quite  cheerful  and 
bright — far  more  so  than  they  had  thought  it  possi- 
ble they  could  be  after  parting  with  so  many  of 
their  friends.  Mr.  Garabier  heard  all  the  details 
of  the  Scotch  travellers'  plans,  and  of  Emily  and 
Blanche  having  gone  with  them ;  and  then,  as  it 
was  one  of  the  evenings  in  which  he  gave  a  cottage 
lecture  in  a  hamlet  at  the  end  of  his  parish,  he  was 
obliged  to  go,  and  left  the  party,  declining  to  re- 
turn that  night,  but  promising  to  see  them  in  the 
morning ;  and  the  girls  then  sat  down  quietly  to 
prepare  some  of  Lily's  -lessons  for  the  next  day, 
when  the  studies  which  late  events  had  much  inter- 
rupted were  to  be  steadily  resumed. 
29* 


XXXIII. 

THE  i^HTIGIPATBD  PARTY* 

^OME  weeks  now  passed  on  peacefully  and 
(^P^  very  pleasantly.  The  girls  at  the  Grange 
had  less  intercourse  with  the  family  at  the 
Cottage  than  they  had  had  before  Mabel's  departure, 
as  Everard  was  .absent  at  Oxford,  and  Meta  had 
taken  the  opportunity  of  visiting  some  friends. 
Rosalie  was  very  busy  with  her  masters,  preparing 
for  them,  receiving  their  lessons,  and  exerting  her- 
self in  every  way  to  obtain  all  the  benefit  she  could 
from  their  attendance,  so  that  she  and  Mrs.  Evelyn 
were  much  occupied. 

The  families  were,  however,  on  the  most  affection- 
ate terms,  and  often  met ;  but  it  more  usually  hap- 
pened that  Maud  and  Lilias  walked  together  alone, 
and  were  more  occupied  with  their  father  and  with 
each  other  than  had  been  the  case  for  many  months 
past.  In  consequence  of  this  close  association,  a 
degree  of  friendship  now  sprang  up  between  the 
sisters  that  was  most  pleasing  and  interesting. 
Maud  had  always  been  as  a  mother  to  the  little  one ; 


1 


THE    ANTICIPATED    PARTY.  343 

but  now  Lily's  growing  intellect  and  expanding 
heart  called  forth  a  different  feeling,  and  the  fine, 
steady  principle  that  began  more  and  more  to  show 
itself  in  Lilias'  conduct  won  the  respect  as  well  as 
the  love  of  her  sister.  Lily,  on  her  part,  strongly 
felt  the  ennobling  and  satisfying  pleasure  that  the 
affoction  and  confidence  of  an  elder  (and  that  elder 
one  such  as  Maud  Hope  was)  bestows  on  the 
younger,  and  she  -was  so  deeply  gratified  by  Maud's 
and  her  father's  evidently  increasing  love  for  her, 
and  by  their  seeming  to  like  to  make  her  their  com- 
panion, and  speaking  to  her  as  one  who  was  trusted, 
that  it  seemed  to  elevate  her  character.  Her  love 
for  Maud  was  intense,  almost  too  vehement ;  indeed, 
the  child's  whole  being  seemed  to  be  full  of  love. 
Her  father,  Mr.  Gambler,  and  Maud  were  all  deep, 
deej)  in  her  young  heart,  and  a  word  or  hint  that 
either  was  otherwise  than  perfect  would  have  made 
Lilias  fire  up  with  indignation  against  him  or  her 
who  should  dare  to  make  such  an  implication. 

Their  life  was  a  very  pleasant  and  quiet  one. 
They  rose  early ;  then  Lilias  went  to  her  father  for 
half  an  hoiu-  daily,  during  which  time  he  read  to  her 
some  portions  of  the  Scriptures,  commenting  as  he 
went  on,  and  often  conversing  with  hor  on  the  sub- 
ject on  which  he  had  read.     Then  they  went  to  the 


344  BLIND    LILIAS. 

library,  where  Maud  and  the  servants  joined  them 
for  family  worship,  after  which  followed  breakfast ; 
after  that  Mr.  Hope  entered  on  his  morning  reading 
or  writing,  whilst  the  girls  studied  for  two  or  three 
hours  together,  and  then  came  the  early  dinner, 
after  which  Mr.  Hope  and  his  daughters  either 
walked  together  or  separately,  as  circumstances  al- 
lowed, calling  occasionally  on  friends  and  neighbors, 
or  visiting  the  poor  in  their  cottages.  Once  or 
twice  in  each  week,  Maud  spent  some  hours  at  the 
village  school,  and  on  those  occasions  Lily  frequent- 
ly walked  alone  with  her  father,  and  often  enjoyed 
one  of  lier  favorite  rides  with  Mr,  Gambler,  as  of 
old.  Then  in  the  gloaming  there  was  singing,  and 
very  often  Eo-e  came  in,  and  was  there  for  the 
twilight  hour,  sometimes  remaining  to  drink  tea, 
and  sometimes  not,  as  might  happen ;  and  Mr.  Gam- 
bier  too  was  often  there,  and  bright  and  pleasant 
were  the  days  as  they  thus  glided  calinly  by. 

But  Easter  drew  near,  and  it  became  necessary 
to  break  the  news  of  Mr.  Gambier's  projected  de- 
parture to  the  little  circle,  of  whi-ch  he  formed  so 
important  a  part.  At  the  first  moment  that  Lilias 
heard  of  his  purposed  change  of  residence,  she 
seemed  entirely  to  sink  under  the  intelligence,  and 
gave  way  to  a  flood  of  tears  and  bitter  lamentations 


THE    ANTICIPATED    PARTY.  345 

— a  few  words  dictated  by  her  old  rebellious  spirit 
escaped  her,  and  she  threw  herself  on  the  ground, 
as  she  used  to  do,  and  yielded  to  the  impetuous 
course  of  her  feelings  without  restraint ;  but  it  was 
but  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Command  yourself,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Hope  ; 
"  dear  Lily,  this  is  not  right ;  we  are  all  as  sorry  to 
lose  our  friend  as  you  can  be,  but  if  it  pleases  God 
to  remove  him  from  us  for  a  time,  we  must  try  to 
consent  to  His  will.  Come,  my  child,"  added  he; 
"  get  up  and  try  to  take  this  trial,  for  such  indeed  it 
is,  in  a  more  Ciiristian  spirit." 

In  former  days,  Lilias  would  have  sobbed  and 
lamented  herself  but  the  more,  had  her  father  spo- 
ken thus  to  her  ;  but  it  was  not  so  now.  She  rose 
gently,  though  still  crying  bitterly,  kissed  the  hand 
that  aided  in  raising  her,  which  she  would  before- 
times  have  repulsed,  and  then  left  the  room  and 
went  to  her  own  little  chamber. 

After  more  than  half  an  hour's  absence,  she  re- 
turned with  a  pale,  sorrowful  face  indeed,  but 
making  strong  eflbrts  to  be  cheerful,  and  though 
her  voice  trembled  when  she  spoke,  and  tears  now 
and  then  started  in  her  poor  sightless  eyes,  she  con- 
tinued to  make  steady  efforts  to  bear  this  new 
trouble  properly,  and  succeeded  so  well,  that  when 


346  BUND    LILIAS. 

her  father  asked  if  he  was  not  to  have  a  song,  she 
was  able  to  take  her  place  at  the  piano,  and  sing 
until  she  had  almost  foi-orotten  her  grief 

Deeply  did  her  fother's  whispered  word  of  ap- 
proval, as  she  kissed  him  and  wished  him  good- 
night, at  her  early  bed-hour,  sink  into  her  heart, 
but  Mr.  Gambler's  "  God  bless  you,  my  dear  good 
little  girl,"  had  very  nearly  the  opposite  effect 
from  that  which  he  would  have  desii*ed,  for  it  made 
the  tears,  which  had  all  the  evening  been  lurking 
in  a  corner,  rush  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  make  a  hasty  exit  without  completing 
her  round  of  "  good-nights," 

After  this  evening  Lilias  bore  up  bravely  ;  she 
had  seen  her  danger,  and  sought  strength  from 
"Him  that  is  mighty,"  and  now,  with  a  mind  set 
to  accept  this  fresh  deprivation  in  a  cheerful  spirit 
from  His  hand,  she  steadily  looked  the  trial  in  the 
face,  and  found  it  (as  we  often  do  find  trials  when 
we  have  courage  to  do  so),  not  nearly  so  distressing 
as  in  her  first  glimpse  of  the  threatened  evil  she  had 
thought  it. 

Her  father  and  Maud,  who  entered  fully  into  the 
child's  sorrow,  kindly  suggested  that  she  should  ask 
Mr.  Gambler  to  write  to  her,  and  Maud  promised 
to  be  Lily's  amanuensis  and  reader  in  the  correspon- 


THE    ANTICIPATED    PARTY.  347 

dence.  This  was  charming,  and  as  her  friend  on 
their  next  meeting  himself  suggested  the  same  plan, 
Lily  was  truly  delighted.  "  And  then  in  one  year 
you  will  come  back,  and  I  shall  still  be  a  little  girl 
then,  you  know,  not  fourteen,  and  the  youngest  is 
always  a  child  much  longer  than  the  eldest." 

"  True,  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Garnbier  ;  "  and  then 
I  shall  find  you  improved,  and  grown  both  in  stature 
and  in  grace,  God  sparing  us.  I  shall  look  on  with 
earnest  hope  to  the  time  when  I  shall  once  more  see 
the  dear  places  and  friends  that  I  leave,  Lilias,  and 
it  will  be  so  pleasant  to  meet  again." 

And  Lily,  with  half  tears  and  half  smiles,  quite 
agreed ;  and  then,  as  it  was  resolved  that  they 
should  make  the  most  of  the  little  time  that  was 
left  them,  they  all  set  out  for  a  walk  to  the  village, 
to  visit  Mrs.  Sutor  and  some  other  of  their  friends 
there,  whilst  Mr.  Gambler  paid  attention  to  some 
parish  duties,  after  which  he  was  to  return  to  the 
Grange  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

The  frequent  letters  which  were  received  from 
Mabel  and  the  Scotch  party  gave  most  satisfactory 
accounts  of  them  and  of  their  doings.  They  had 
visited  Bath  and  London  on  their  way  to  Scotland, 
and  now  had  just  arrived  in  Edinburgh,  from  a 
sojourn  in  which  most  interesting  city  Mabel  was 


348  BLIND    LILIA8.  ^ 

promising  herself  much  delight.  Emily's  letters  to 
Lilias  were  highly  amusing  and  graphic.  She  had 
never  before  been  in  any  large  town  or  city  in 
England,  and  her  observations  were  so  intelligent 
and  so  freely  and  simply  communicated,  that  they 
quite  interested  all  the  elders  as  well  as  Lilias  her- 
self. Lily's  letters  in  reply  were,  of  course,  com- 
paratively unsatisfactory,  as  the  poor  child  was 
unable  to  write  for  herself,  and  did  not  find  it  very 
easy  or  pleasant  to  dictate,  but  Emily  was  true  to 
her  promise  and  her  friend,  and,  not  disheartened 
by  the  rather  dry  and  short  replies  which  she  re- 
ceived, she  failed  not  to  keep  Lilias  well  up  to  all 
their  movements,  and  to  give  her  some  idea  of 
most  of  the  novelties  which  chiefly  interested  her 
sister  and  herself. 


I 


XXXIV. 

A  HEiLYIER  TRIAL. 

^fl^OW  little  do  we  know  what  lies  before  us ! 
^lf'\  How  little  did  Lilias  Hope  think,  when  her 
spirits  sunk  under  the  thought  of  Mr.  Gam- 
bier's  now  near  departure,  that  a  tiir  deeper  grief 
and  anxiety  would  soon  swallow  up  all  her  thoughts 
of  it  and  him. 

It  was  early  in  the  afternoon  of  a  most  lovely 
day  in  April,  that  Mr.  Hope  being  busy  elsewhere, 
the  two  girls,  Maud  and  Lilias,  set  out  for  a  ram- 
ble on  the  sea-shore. 

The  cliffs  which  bound  the  coast  of  this  part  of 
Devonshire  are  very  lofty,  composed  in  some  parts 
of  red  sandstone,  and  in  others  of  limestone,  which 
is  extensively  quarried  and  carried  oft'  for  burning 
into  lime.  Through  these  latter  run  immense  veins 
of  very  beautiful  marble,  interspersed  with  huge 
masses  of  fossil  madrepores,  from  which,  when  cut 
and  polished,  chimney-pieces,  tables,  and  other 
household  ornaments  of  great  beauty,  are  made. 
Below  these  clift's  lie  little  beaches  formed  of  ex- 
30 


850  BLIND    LILIAS. 

eeedingly  white  and  very  small  shingle,  and  deeply 
rooted  in  them  are  very  hirge  boulders  of  variously 
colored  marbles,  whi'^h  ha'^p  from  time  to  time 
fallen  from  the  cliffs  above,  or  been  thrown  out  of 
the  quarries  as  useless.  The  tints  of  these  marbles, 
which  are  chiefly  blue,  yellow,  and  white,  look  very 
brilliant  and  beautiful  when  the  waves  have  re- 
cently washed  them  and  left  them  wet,  and  amongst 
the  small  stones  which  lie  between,  fine  specimens 
of  madrepores  and  sponges  ai*e  found,  and  the 
searching  for  them  forms  one  of  the  seaside  amuse- 
ments of  the  young  people  in  the  neighborhood. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  little  beaches  that  Maud 
and  Lilias  were  amusing  themselves  on  the  after- 
noon of  which  we  speak.  Lily's  delight  was  to 
throw  stones  into  the  water,  that  she  might  hear 
the  deep  plashing  sound  they  made  as  they  fell. 
Sometimes  she  made  Maud  place  her  on  some  safe 
spot  where  she  might  cast  them  from  a  distance 
above ;  at  others  she  would  try  how  far  she  could 
hurl  them,  judging  of  the  distance  she  had  thrown 
by  the  sound  of  the  stone  in  its  fall.  They  had 
been  enjoying  this  sport  for  a  considerable  time, 
Neptune  and  Fata,  who  were  with  them,  respec- 
tively occupying  themselves,  the  one  by  dashing  in 
after  the  first  stone,  and  then  swimming  from  one 


A    HEAVIER    TRIAL.  351 

spot  to  another  as  each  succeeding  missile  sounded 
on  tlie  surface,  and  the  other,  by  standing  on  the 
shore  and  barking  vociferously,  as  it  was  her  cus- 
tom to  do  when  Neptune  was  in  the  water.  At 
last  some  object  drew  off  Maud's  attention,  and 
both  girls  stood  still,  ceasing  to  throw  stones,  so 
that  Neptune,  finding  his  imaginary  duties  ended, 
began  to  swim  ashore,  and  finally  landed  close  to 
the  feet  of  his  young  mistresses,  and  began  most 
unceremoniously  to  shake  his  dripping  locks  over 
their  dresses,  utterly  regardless  of  the  heavy 
shower  of  salt  water  which  he  was  thus  inflicting 
on  them. 

Both  girls  laughingly  scolded  him,  and  with  a 
sudden  nfiovement  stepped  backwards — Lilias  in 
safety,  but  poor  Maud,  who  had  been  standing  in 
front  of  a  large  block  of  marble,  low  sunken  in  tho 
beach,  tripped  against  it,  and  fell  backwards  over  it 
with  considerable  violence.  Her  exclamations  of 
anguish  alone  informed  Lily,  who  was  still  laugh- 
ing, that  any  accident  had  occurred,  but  what  it  was 
she  knew  not,  for  Maud  had  seriously  hurt  herself, 
and  lay  on  the  ground  in  great  suffering,  and  at 
first  unable  to  speak. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  where  are  you,  Maud  ?" 
exclaimed  the  terrified  ciiiid.     "  Dear  Maud,  what 


352  BLIND    LILIA8. 

is  it?  What  have  you  donef  But  Maud  had 
nearly  fainted,  and  no  answer  could  Lilias  obtain. 
The  little  girl  felt  round  her  in  the  direction  in 
which  her  sister  had  been  standing,  but  on  the 
ground,  because  the  sound  of  the  voice  had  shown 
her  that  Maud  must  have  fallen,  and  soon  she  found 
the  beloved  object  of  her  fears,  and  discovered  by 
the  touch  that  she  was  insensible.  Was  she  dead  ? 
That  was  the  child's  first  terrible  thought ;  but 
Lily  had  considerable  presence  of  mind,  and  re- 
membered that  it  might  be  only  faintness,  so  she 
began  to  chafe  her  temples  and  hands,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  Maud  sighed,  and  began  to  recover 
consciousness,  and  soon  she  was  able  to  speak, 
though  with  difficulty,  for  she  had  severely  bruised 
herself  in  her  fall,  and  her  back  gave  her  so  much 
pain  that  she  could  with  difficulty  command  herself. 
Her  position  was  a  very  perilous  one,  and  she  soon 
became  fully  aware  of  it.  She  lay  near  the  edge 
of  the  sea,  it  was  just  about  low  water,  and  spring 
tides,  so  that  when  the  turn  once  began  the  water 
would,  she  knew,  flow  rapidly,  and  soon  cover  the 
place  where  she  lay — all  this  suddenly  rushed  into 
her  mind,  and  she  remembered  that  her  only  com- 
panion was  a  blind  child,  and  that  a  long  piece  of 
stony  beach,  a  steep  path  up  the  side  of  the  hill, 


I 


A    HEAVIER    TRIAL. 


353 


and  half  a  mile  of  lane,  was  between  her  and  any 
possibility  of  help. 

For  a  few  moments  she  was  panic-stricken,  and 
tried  again  and  again  to  rise,  or  to  draw  herself 
further  from  the  sea ;  but  the  effort  was  vain — her 
limbs  were  useless,  and  she  could  do  nothing.  Then 
came  thoughts  of  Him  who  is  "  a  present  help  in 
trouble,"  and  she  felt  that  He  was  near,  and  was 
calmed.  With  these  thoughts  came  back  to  her 
her  usual  strong  sense  and  judgment,  and  after  a 
moment's  prayerful  thought,  she  was  able  to  reply 
to  Lily's  often  repeated  entreaties  to  be  told  what 
to  do. 

"  Go,  darling,  as  fast  as  you  can  towards  the  vil- 
lage, but  be  careful  not  to  fall,  and  as  you  go  cry 
out,  '  Help,''  as  loud  as  you  can.  People  whom  you 
cannot  see  may  hear  you,  and,  if  you  meet  with  any 
one,  send  him  to  me,  and  run  on  to  papa,  and  ask 
him  to  come,  and  bring  some  one  with  a  board,  and 
some  cushions,  or  a  chair,  or  something  to  carry  me  ; 
and  tell  dear  papa  not  to  be  frightened.  But  be  as 
quick  as  possible,  dearest." 

"  But  how  shall  I  find  my  way,  Maud  1  I  do  not 
know  which  way  I  am  standing,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  feel  by." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  dear ;  untie  my  ribbon 
30* 


354  BLIND    LILIAS. 

from  my  hat,  and  fasten  it  to  Nep,  and  he  will  lead 
you  right." 

In  great  trepidation,  Lilias  did  as  Maud  bade  her  ; 
but  a  new  difficulty  arose — Neptune  would  not  be 
induced  to  leave  Maud.  lie  lay  down  by  her  side, 
and  said  as  plainly  as  a  dog  could  say,  "  She  must 
not  be  left  here  alone,  /shall  stay  with  Aer,"  and  no 
persuasion  or  scolding  could  induce  him  to  go  one 
step. 

"  I  know,"  exclaimed  Lilias — "  Fata  shall  lead 
me ;"  and  hastily  unfastening  the  ribbon  from  the 
resolute  Neptune's  neck,  she  tied  it  round  Fata's, 
and  kissing  Maud  passionately, with  many  fears,  but 
with  a  praying  heart,  she  began  her  journey.  Hap- 
pily for  Lily,  the  idea  of  the  apj^roaching  turn  of 
the  tide  had  not  entered  her  mind,  and  Maud, 
though  the  terror  of  the  idea  was  strongly  oppress- 
ing her,  wisely  and  kindly  forbore  to  tell  her,  well 
knowing  that  the  poor  child  would  lose  no  time  in 
doing  all  that  lay  in  her  power. 

With  her  eyes  fully  open  to  the  danger  of  her 
position,  Maud  lay  there,  awaiting  the  death  that 
she  feared  was,  humanly  speaking,  inevitable.  She 
knew  that  even  if  all  went  on  well,  it  mjist  be  a  full 
half-hour  before  Lilias,  with  the  difficulties  she  had 
to  contend  with,  could  reach  the  village,  and  more 


I 


A    HEAVIER    TEIAL.  355 

time  must  yet  elapse  before  any  one  could  come  to 
her  succor.  Then  there  was  the  great  danger  of  the 
poor  child  being  led  aside  from  her  path  by  the 
giddy  little  dog  who  was  to  act  as  her  guide,  or  of 
her  strength  failing  her  under  the  excessive  distress 
of  her  mind.  She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  saw 
that  it  yet  wanted  about  twenty  minutes  of  low 
water,  and  then  earnestly  striying  to  withdraw  her 
thoughts  from  outward  things,  she  set  herself  to 
commune  with  her  God,  and  to  seek  from  Him 
calmness  and  confidence. 

So  she  lay.  Lilias  meanwhile  hurried  onwards, 
shouting  for  help,  but  no  one  did  she  meet.  Fata, 
who  seemed  to  have  some  intuitive  sense  of  the 
cliarge  with  which  she  was  intrusted,  guided  her 
safely  to  the  hill-path.  Then  she  had  the  advantage 
of  the  bank  to  guide  her,  and  a  good  wide  road,  and 
she  pressed  on  against  the  steep  hill  with  breathless 
haste,  every  now  and  then  uttering  aloud  her  cry 
of  "  Help!  help  !"  and  continually  in  her  heart  call- 
ing on  Him  who  is  "  mighty  to  save  "  to  deliver  her 
dear  sister.  On  she  went,  up  the  hill  and  through 
the  lane,  and  happily  at  the  end  of  it  she  met  a 
neighbor,  to  whom  she  told  her  cause  of  alarm,  and 
sent  him   on  to   Maud,  whilst  she   still   rushed  on- 


356  BLIND    LILIAS. 

wards  to  seek  her  father  and  fulfil  the  rest  of  her 
directions. 

Meanwhile  poor  Maud  lay  in  heavy  pain  of  body, 
and,  notwithstanding  all  her  efforts  at  composure,  in 
considerable  excitement  of  mind.  She  contrived 
with  great  pain  to  draw  herself  a  little  way  further 
from  the  water,  but  it  was  not  much,  and  she  could 
do  no  more.  She  looked  from  time  to  time  at  her 
watch  ;  and  slowly  as  the  minutes  usually  pass  when 
we  are  in  suffering  and  expectation,  now  they 
seemed  to  gallop.  She  heard  the  ripple  of  the 
waves  as  they  broke  on  the  pebbles  becoming  nearer 
and  nearer,  then  she  felt  the  spray  dash  on  her  face, 
and  by  little  and  little  the  cold  waters  came  up 
round  her. 

But  the  vei'y  thing  which  had  caused  her  fall  now 
led  to  her  safety.  The  great  block  of  stone  over 
which  she  had  stumbled  divided  the  waves  as  they 
came,  and  part  rolled  this  way  and  part  that  as  they 
broke  against  it,  so  that,  the  spot  where  she  was, 
being  a  little  raised,  she  remained  longer  above  the 
water  than  she  would  otherwise  have  done,  and 
though  the  flood  flowed  round  her,  it  did  not  do 
more  than  wet  her  garments  and  her  feet.  Poor 
Neptune  was  miserable.  He  tried  repeatedly  to 
drag  her  up  by  her  clothes,  but  the  agony  his  pull- 


A    HEAVIER    TRIAL.  357 

ing  caused  her,  obliged  her  to  prevent  it.  Still  she 
hoped,  even  as  it  were  against  hope ;  and  not  in 
vain. 

Suddenly  Neptune  sprang  away  from  lier,  howl- 
ing and  barking  as  dogs  do  when  calling  for  help, 
and  dashed  into  the  water.  He  had  heard  voices, 
and  towards  them  he  went ;  for  they  proceeded  from 
a  boat  that  was  passing  not  for  from  the  beach,  and 
towards  it  he  swam  most  lustily.  The  action  and 
voice  of  the  dog  drew  the  attention  of  those  in  the 
boat  to  the  spot  whence  he  came,  and  tlu-y  discov- 
ered the  light  dress  of  some  one  lying  as  if  unable 
to  rise,  and  almost  in  the  water.  Pulling  hastily  to 
the  shore,  one  of  them  jumped  ouf,  and,  discovering 
the  poor  half-drowned  girl's  condition,  he  made  his 
companions  draw  up  the  boat  on  the  beach  and 
come  to  his  aid.  There  were  four  men  on  board, 
two  of  them  sailors,  the  other  two  tradesmen  from 
the  town.  There  were  also  two  women,  the  wife 
and  sister  of  one  of  them.  With  much  care  they 
lifted  the  injured  girl  into  their  boat,  and  placed  her 
on  some  sails,  folded  so  as,  with  the  boat's  cushions 
and  the  passengers'  cloaks,  to  make  her  a  comfort- 
able couch  ;  and  leaving  one  of  their  party  to  walk 
towards  the  village  and  inform  Mr.  Hojiu  of  his 
daughter's  safety,  and  that  she  slif>ul<l  be  landed  at 


358  BLIND    LILIAS. 

the  quay,  where  a  carriage  could  meet  her,  they 
sailed  on  their  way,  Maud  with  her  heart  full  of 
thankfulness  for  her  wonderful  escape,  and  Neptune 
lying  well  satisfied  by  her  side. 

By  the  time  that  the  man  whom  Lilias  had  sent, 
with  another  that  he  had  picked  up  by  the  way, 
reached  the  beach,  Maud  had  disappeared,  and  the 
spot  where  she  had  fallen  was  covered  with  deep 
water.  In  great  alarm  the  men  retraced  their  steps, 
and  meeting  Mr.  Hope,  who  was  hurrying  to  the 
shore,  they  gave  him  the  terrible  information  that 
Maud  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

But  the  father's  ready  mind  caught  at  the  only 
gleam  of  hope.  He  knew  that  Neptune  had  re- 
mained with  his  mistress,  and  that  he  would  not 
have  left  the  ground,  had  it  been,  as  the  man  feared, 
that  she  had  been  overtaken  by  the  tide. 

"  The  dog  !  where  was  the  dog  ? "  he  asked  hastily. 

"  I  didn't  see  no  dog,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  Then 
Maud  is  safe,"  was  Mr.  Hope's  inference :  "  some 
one  has  found  out  her  position  and  taken  her  away." 
As  he  thought,  he  however  hurried  on  to  the  shore, 
resolved  to  trust  no  eyes  but  his  own  ;  but  long  be- 
fore he  reached  it,  the  man  who  had  left  the  boat  in 
which  Maud  was,  to  seek  him,  arrived  with  good 
news,  and  lifting  up  his  heart  in  thankfulness  to  God, 


I 


A    HEAVIER    TRIAL.  359 

he  rapidly  returned  to  the  house,  to  relieve  the  fears 
of  his  child,  as  well  as  to  get  a  conveyance  prepar- 
ed. Soon  he  and  Lilias  were  on  their  way  to  the 
town,  with  nurse  on  the  box  of  the  carriage,  to  as- 
sist in  whatever  might  be  required  for  her  young 
lady's  needs.  Mr.  Hope  called  on  his  way  for  Dr. 
Graves,  whom  lie  happily  found  at  home,  and  took 
him  to  the  quay  with  him.  It  was  but  a  few  min- 
utes they  had  to  wait,  before  the  boat  was  seen 
nearing  the  steps  ;  they  drew  close  up,  and  then  one 
of  the  sailors  and  another  of  the  party  gently  lifted 
Maud,  and  bore  her  up  the  steps,  where  her  father 
and  sister,  with  Dr.  Graves,  were  ready  to  receive 
her. 

They  got  her  home  with  tolerable  ease,  and  after 
she  had  been  undressed.  Dr.  Graves  examined  into 
her  state,  and  pronounced  that  the  joint  of  the  right 
knee  was  injured,  and  that  the  back  had  been  so  se- 
verely bruised  and  strained  in  the  fall,  that  although 
he  saw  no  reason  to  fear  but  that  she  would  ulti- 
mately recover  her  powers,  it  must  be  a  work  of 
time  and  patience,  and  that  she  must  be  confined  to 
her  couch  for  many  months,  before  the  ligaments 
would  recover  their  tone. 

This  communication  was  of  course  made  only  to 
Mr.  Hope.     "  Time  and  patience,  with  God's  bless- 


ofiO  BLIND    LILIAS. 

ing,  and  a  good  constitution,  will  set  up  your  dear 
sister  again,  my  love,"  was  the  Doctor's  reply  to 
Lily's  eager  questioning ;  "  and  she  must  have  good 
nursing  too,  my  dear  child  ;  you  must  look  after  her 
yourself,  and  I  expect  to  find  you  the  best  of  little 
women  and  a  pattern  nurse.  You  know,  I  dare  say, 
that  nurses  should  be  very  watchful  and  careful ; 
but  perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  they  should  never 
ask  their  j^atients  many  questions,  or  worry  them 
by  wishing  they  were  better,  and  wondering  wheth- 
er they  ever  will  get  well.  Cheerfulness,  Hope, 
and  Patience,  are  the  three  little  friends  I  should 
recommend  to  all  young  nurses,  and  above  all,  my 
love.  Faith.  You  must  never  let  Faith  go  out  of 
the  room,  or  lose  sight  of  her  for  a  moment,  she  is 
the  best  of  all,  and  the  other  three  will  not  live  an 
hour  after  Faith  is  dead  or  gone  to  sleep." 

"  Yes,  dear  doctor,"  replied  Lilias,  hastily  drying 
her  tears,  and  striving  to  subdue  her  excitement. 
"  I  will  do  my  very  best ;  now  tell  me  what  I  shall 
do  first  1" 

"  Why,  you  have  done  the  first  thing  I  should 
have  recommended  beautifully  ;  I  mean,  mopped  up 
the  streams  on  those  pale  little  cheeks.  Now,  take 
Miss  Cheerfulness  by  the  hand,  and  go  and  sit  down 
by  Maud's  bed.     She  will  not  sleep  just  yet,  nor  at 


A    HEAVIER    TRIAL.  361 

all  until  she  has  relieved  her  mind  by  a  little 
talk,  so  you  may  go  and  chat  a  little  with  her,  till 
nurse  tells  you  to  go.  She  is  just  taking  some 
broth,  and  after  a  while  will  have  a  composing 
draught,  so  you  may  sit  with  her  till  then.  But  re- 
member, Lily,"  said  he,  calling  her  back  as  she  was 
leaving  the  room,  "  you  are  to  be  very  quiet  and  as 
dull  as  you  can,  and  in  no  way  to  excite  her." 

And  Lily,  nodding  acquiescence,  hastened  to  her 
sister's  room,  and  there,  holding  Maud's  hand,  and 
exerting  herself  to  subdue  all  her  impetuous  and 
intense  feelings,  and  to  talk  calmly  and  cheerfully, 
began  a  task  which  was  many  a  long  week  before 
it  was  ended — a  task  which  told  mightily  on  the 
child's  mind  and  character  in  after  life. 
31 


XXXV. 

THE  ITUKSEi  i^ND  COMFORTER. 

^'ijjViVAUD'S  illness  took  a  most  serious  form. 
/sifi/TT  In  consequence  of  the  alarm  she  had  under- 
gone, and  the  long  exposure  to  a  rather 
cold  air  in  wet  clothes,  she  had  not  only  to  contend 
with  the  local  injuries  she  had  sustained,  but  also 
with  severe  fever,  which  set  in  during  the  night  after 
her  accident,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  be- 
came so  strong  as  to  produce  the  most  lively  alarm 
in  the  minds  of  her  medical  attendants,  for  a  surgeon 
had  been  called  in  to  examine  the  injured  joint,  and 
now  shared  the  attendance  with  Dr.  Graves. 

Mrs.  Evelyn  and  her  nieces  were  from  home, 
having  taken  advantage  of  the  children's  absence  to 
visit  some  friends  in  London,  where  Rosalie  could 
receive  masters  with  advantage.  Mr.  Hope  was 
therefore  left  without  the  comfort  that  their  pres- 
ence would  have  afforded  him. 

Several  times  during  the  early  stages  of  Maud's 
illness,  he  had  decided  on  recalling  Mabel,  and  had 
once  even  written  a  letter  requesting  her  return ; 


i 


THE  NURSE  AND  COMFORTER.        363 

but  he  was  highly  averse  from  doing  so,  if  it  were 
possible  to  avoid  it,  and  the  letter  was  put  aside. 
She  was,  of  course^  told  of  her  sister's  accident, 
and  was  most  urgent  to  be  allowed  to  return  home, 
but  as  the  distance  was  great,  and  no  proper  escort 
to  be  obtained,  and  as  Mr  Hope  fondly  anticipated 
that  Maud  would  be  so  much  better  before  her 
arrival  as  to  make  her  coming  unnecessary,  he  at 
last  decided  on  not  recalling  her,  at  least  for  the 
present ;  and  he  and  his  little  Lilias,  with  the  im- 
portant aid  of  nurse,  undertook  the  task  of  attend- 
ance on  the  sick  girl.  It  was  good  for  Lilias,  and 
most  interesting  was  it  to  see  how  the  child  adapted 
herself  to  her  new  position.  The  habit  of  aiding 
herself  by  touch  instead  of  sight,  had  long  enabled 
lier  to  do  many  things  that  in  the  earlier  stages  of 
her  affliction  she  would  have  deemed  impossible, 
and  now  she  was  able  to  take  her  turn  with  nurse 
and  her  father,  in  the  duties  of  the  sick-room,  and 
could  pour  out  and  administer  a  medicine,  or  give 
her  food  to  her  dear  patient,  almost  as  well,  though 
not  quite  so  quickly,  as  if  she  had  been  able  to  se^. 
With  earnest  entreaties  she  had  begged  her  father 
t')  let  her  share  the  night  watches  as  well  as  the 
day  work,  and  as  Maud  seemed  never  so  calm  and 
easy  as  when  her  little  sister  was  close  by  her,  and 


364  BLIND    LILIAS. 

as  Lilias  was  now  in  excellent  health,  he  thought  it 
better  to  comply  with  her  wish.  Maud  loved  to 
hear  the  low  sweet  voice  that  was  so  dear  to  her, 
softly  repeating  a  text  or  two,  or  a  verse  of  a  hymn, 
close  to  her  pillow,  and  not  unfrequently  late  in  the 
night,  Lily's  rich  voice  might  be  heard  pouring  out 
in  low-breathed  tones  some  sweet  hymn  of  praise. 
In  Maud's  most  restless  moods,  those  harmonious 
tones,  together  with  the  holy  and  life-giving  words 
that  accompanied  them,  had  almost  always  a  power 
of  soothing  her  that  nothing  else  could  supply  ;  in- 
somuch that  on  one  or  two  occasions  Mr.  Hope  had 
been  obliged  to  fetch  Lilias  from  her  bed  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  to  sing  to  her  sister,  who  had, 
in  her  delirium,  entreated  for  it  so  earnestly  that 
she  could  not  otherwise  be  pacified. 

It  was  a  touching  sight  to  see  the  blind  child  in 
her  night-dress,  wrapped  in  shawls,  and  seated  on 
the  bed  of  the  fevered  patient,  her  father  sitting  by, 
and  then  to  mark  the  calming  and  quieting  influence 
of  the  holy  song,  and  see  how  the  flush  died  away 
from  Maud's  cheek,  and  the  eager  searching  eye 
was  quieted,  as  the  little  minstrel  proceeded  with 
her  strange  task,  until  at  last  gentle  slumber  would 
sink  down  on  her  eyelids,  and  Lilias,  suffering  her 
song,  as  it  were,  to  die  away,  was  lifted  in  her 


I 


THE    NURSE    AND    COMFORTER. 


365 


father's  arms,  and  laid  in  her  own  little  bed  to 
sleep  and  dream  of  happy  and  blessed  things,  till 
morning  summoned  her  to  prayer  and  duty. 

It  was  a  holy  season  to  all,  and  as  Maud  began 
to  improve,  and  their  great  anxiety  was  removed,  a 
very  happy  one.  The  days  which  Lilias  had  lived 
in  the  hourly  contemplation  of  suffering,  and  with 
the  solemn  thoughts  of  death  constantly  before  her, 
had  wrought  a  great  work  in  her.  She  had  realized 
the  immense  idea  of  God's  near  presence  in  a  mea- 
sure to  which  she  had  never  before  attained,  and 
the  experience  of  that  time  had  done  for  her  more 
than  months  of  her  former  life  could  have  done. 
She  loved  God  better ;  she  felt  also  that  she  was 
more  to  her  earthly  fither  and  to  her  beloved  sister 
than  she  could  ever  have  hoped  or  believed  it  pos- 
sible she  should  be ;  she  realized,  too,  the  truth  of 
Everard's  words  spoken  long  ago,  and  now  her 
dreams  and  visions  of  doing  great  things  to  win 
the  praise  of  men  looked,  as  they  were,  vain  and 
earthly,  and  they  died  out  of  her  heart  for  ever. 
Lily  now  felt,  that  to  do  and  to  suffer  cheerfully 
and  faithfully,  in  her  own  proper  sphere  of  life,  that 
which  hour  by  hour  God  appointed  for  her  to  do 
and  to  suffer,  was  to  live  to  God  and  to  honor  Him. 
"  Him  that  honoreth  me,  I  will  honor,"  says  the 
31* 


366  BLIND    LILIAS. 

Lord,  and  the  feeble  blind  child  found  during  those 
silent  hours,  that  it  was  indeed  good  for  her  thus  to 
be.  Often  would  she  think  over  the  words  of  that 
sweet  hymn  that  so  truly  imbodies  the  Christian's 
desires,  and  so  wisely  sets  him  in  his  right  place. 

"I  would  not  have  the  restless  will 

That  hurries  to  and  fro, 
Seeking  some  great  thing  to  do, 

Or  secret  thing  to  know  ; 
I  would  be  treated  as  a  child, 

And  guided  where  to  go. 

"  Wherever  in  the  world  I  am, 

In  whatsoe'er  estate, 
I  have  a  fellowship  with  hearts 

To  keep  and  cultivate ; 
And  a  work  of  lowly  love  to  do 

For  the  Lord  on  whom  I  wait. 

"  So  I  ask  Thee  for  the  daily  strength, 
To  none  that  ask  denied, 
And  a  mind  to  hlend  with  outward  life, 

While  keeping  at  Thy  side  ; 
Content  to  Jill  a  little  space, 
If  Thou  be  glorified." 

It  was  a  little  space  indeed  that  she  filled,  but 
oh,  how  precious  was  it !  Lilias  had  found  her 
"  niche  in  life  " — she  was  to  be  a  nurse,  a  comforter. 
She  had  found  out  the  secret  of  true  sympathy,  that 
of  throwing  self  aside,  of  having. 


THE  NURSE  AND  COMFORTER.        367 

"  A  miad  at  leisure  from  itself, 
To  soothe  aud  sympathize." 

That  was  the  great  thing  she  was  to  do,  the  thhig 
after  which  her  heart  had  been  yearning.  She  was 
to  be  important  in  the  sick-room,  to  be  important 
by  her  father's  side,  to  cheer  him  with  her  singing, 
her  loving  cheerfuhiess ;  she  was  to  be  important 
to  nurse, — for  her  new  strong  faith  was  the  uphold- 
ing and  strengthening  of  the  anxious  spirit  of  the 
dear  old  friend  who  had  held  her  own  little  form  in 
infancy,  and  cherished  her  motherless  childhood, — 
and  to  her  brothers ;  to  darling  May  she  was  im- 
portant, for  if  she,  Lily,  had  not  been  at  home, 
May  must  have  been  fetched  back,  and  Evra  too, 
perhaps. 


XXXVI. 

PLK&SURS  IXT  ITBW  DUTIES* 

#VERARD  was  now  gone  to  a  quiet  nook  with 
a  friend,  to  read  and  meditate,  and  prepare 
his  heart  for  that  solemn  period  of  his  life  that 
was  approaching,  away  from  the  excitements  and 
interests  which  thronged  around  him  at  home.  He 
had  been  at  the  Grange,  for  as  soon  as  he  heard  of 
Maud's  accident  he  had  hurried  home  instantly,  but 
now  that  she  was  recovering,  and  his  father's  mind 
more  at  ease,  that  kind  father  insisted  on  his  return- 
ing to  his  studies,  and  Lily's  heart  had  swelled  with 
thankful  pleasure  when  she  heard  him  say — 

"  We  shall  get  on  bravely,  my  dear  boy ;  my 
Lilias  is  a  host  in  herself;  I  can  never  feel  lonely 
whilst  Muf  flits  about  hither  and  thither.  God  bless 
my  good  child  !"  he  added,  drawing  her  into  his 
arms  and  kissing  her,  and  Lily  could  only  hide  her 
face  on  his  breast  to  conceal  the  gush  of  joyful  tears 
that  suffused  her  face,  until  she  recovered  her  usual 
calmness. 

And  what  of  Mr.  Gambler  1     He  was  not  gone. 


PLEASURE    IN    NEW    DUTIES.  360 

and  seldom  a  day  passed  without  his  spending  a 
part  of  it  with  Mr.  Hope ;  but  Lily  was  but  little 
with  him.  Maud  was  never  left  without  one  or 
other  of  them,  and  so  when  Mr.  Gambler  was  with 
papa,  Lily  was  in  the  sick-room.  Nor  did  she  de- 
sire that  it  should  be  otherwise.  Occasionally  Mr. 
Hope  sent  her  to  get  her  exei'cise  either  in  walking 
or  riding  with  Mr.  Gambier,  and  greatly  did  she 
rejoice  in  the  cheering,  strengthening  tone  of  her 
kind  friend's  conversation  when  it  was  so,  but  she 
was  always  restless  when  away  from  home,  and 
eager  to  get  back  ;  so  as  soon  as  the  prescribed 
hour  was  over,  back  she  hastened,  and  off  to  her 
post,  and  then,  ensconced  in  her  nook  by  Maud's 
couch,  she  was  no  more  to  be  seen  until  again  sent 
for. 

It  was  thus  that  the  great  trial  of  his  final  depar- 
ture, to  which  she  had  looked  forward  with  such 
dismay,  was  lightened  to  her.  She  had  now  such 
overwhelmingly  interesting  duties  and  employments 
that  her  occupied  mind  had  no  time  to  give  to  vain 
regrets,  and  she  had  also  been  so  little  with  him  of 
late,  that  when  he  really  went,  it  was  not  to  her  that 
daily  miss  that  it  would  under  other  circumstances 
have  been ;  and  so,  although  in  truth  loving  her 
friend  even  bettor  than  bcfijrc,  when  he  left  her  she 


370  BLIND    LILIAS. 

felt  it  comparatively  little,  and  settled  down  to  her 
attendance  on  Maud  and  on  her  fether  with  renewed 
ardor  and  delight. 

Maud's  recovery  was  slow,  and  even  after  her 
general  health  was  somewhat  restored,  the  injuries 
she  had  received  required  that  she  should  be  kept  in 
a  reclining  position,  and  very  quiet,  so  that  many 
months  elapsed  before  she  was  again  able  to  take 
her  usual  place  in  the  fiimily.  During  these  months 
Lilias  became  quite  a  nice  little  housekeeper.  She 
kept  the  keys,  gave  out  stores,  and  even  made  the 
tea,  and,  much  to  her  delight,  contrived  to  pour  it 
out  without  throwing  it  over.  She  was  so  earnest 
in  her  desires  to  be  useful,  and  now  made  it  so  much 
the  object  of  her  ambition  to  conquer  all  her  diffi- 
culties, that  she  tried  and  practised  different  meth- 
ods of  doing  things,  by  means  of  feeling  and  hear- 
ing, until  success  crowned  her  efforts ;  and  she  soon 
became  almost  as  expert  in  the  management  of  her 
cups  and  saucers,  cream-jug  and  tea-pot,  as  if  she 
could  see.  She  had  certainly  indulgent  friends  to 
deal  with,  who  did  not  become  impatient  when  her 
attempts  were  not  at  once  successful,  for  both  Maud 
and  her  father  were  content  to  let  the  little  blind 
child  try  again  and  again,  and  did  not  mind  it  or 
scold  her,  when  at  first  she  failed  to  hit  the  right 


PLEASURE    IN    NEW    DUTIES.  371 

place  for  the  tea-pot  to  stand  on,  and  let  the  boiling 
water  from  the  urn,  that  ought  to  have  fallen  into  it, 
flow  all  over  the  table-cloth  ;  nor  when  she  mistook 
the  sugar-basin  for  a  breakfist-cup,  and  poured  the 
cream  all  over  the  sugar.  They  only  laughed,  and 
set  her  right,  and  in  time  all  such  mistakes  ceased, 
and  Lilias  made  and  managed  the  tea  almost  as 
well  as  Maud  could  have  done.  She  was  certainly 
a  little  proud  of  her  capabilities,  and  not  seldom 
pleased  herself  with  the  delight  it  would  be  to  see 
Mabel's  surprise  when  she  retui'ned,  or  to  make  tea 
for  dear  Mr.  Gambler  when  he  came  home  again. 
"  Papa  and  Maud  must  not  tell  them  how  nicely  she 
had  learned  to  manage."  Lily's  tea-making  was  her 
delight,  and  exhil)ited  with  the  greatest  excitement 
and  enjoyment  to  Mrs.  Evelyn,  and  Meta,  and  Ro- 
salie, when  they  returned  home ;  and  again  to  her 
own  dear  Evra,  who  was  as  well  pleased  as  his  little 
sister. 

"  Why,  Lily,  we  shall  have  you  famous  at  last !" 
he  said  laughingly ;  "  certainly  your  family  and 
friends  will  be  proud  of  you  now.  Do  you  remem- 
ber your  aspirations  after  greatness.  Mufti  ?'' 

"  Yes,  quite  well.  Evra,"  replied  she,  '"  but  I  am 
ashamed  of  all  that  now  ;  only  I  own  I  do  like  to 
overcome  difficulties,  and  do  things  better  than  peo- 


373  BLIND    LILIA8. 

pie  would  expect,  and  I  do  like  to  hear  people  say, 
'  What,  you  make  tea  !'  or,  '  You  give  out  the  stores  ! 
— I  should  not  have  thought  it  possible.' " 

"  Yes,  Muf,  and  if  they  add,  '  How  clever  you 
must  be,'  then  you  like  it  better  still — hey  1  is  it  not 
so?" 

"  Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  Lily,  "  and  better  still 
if  I  hear  them  just  whisper  to  Maud  or  any  one, 
'  What  a  clever  quick  little  thing  that  is,' " — and 
Lily  laughed  merrily  at  her  own  audacious  admis- 
sion, a  laugh  in  which  all  joined. 


I 


XXXVII. 

FAMILY  CHAITGES. 

^r'WO  years  had  passed  away  since  the  time  of 
%J^  Mr.  Gambler's  departure,  and  he  was  still  de- 
tained at  his  father's  honne,  and  obliged  to  be 
absent  from  his  own.  He  had  paid  more  than  one 
short  visit,  of  two  or  three  days  at  a  time,  to  his 
own  parish,  and  Lilias  had  enjoyed  his  snrprise  and 
admiration  when  she  exhibited  her  new  acquire- 
ments, and  still  more  enjoyed  and  rejoiced  in  the 
true  and  heartfelt  approval  which  he  yielded  to  the 
steady  course  of  usefulness  in  which  she  had  set  out 
and  made  such  progress. 

Many  things  of  family  interest  had  happened  in 
those  two  years.  In  the  first  place,  Mabel  had 
returned  to  her  home,  and  with  her  Emily  and 
Blanche.  Much,  very  much,  had  happened  to  Ma- 
l>el  during  her  sojourn  in  the  north.  The  first  and 
happiest  event  was,  that  by  God's  infinite  mercy  she 
was  now  evincing,  by  her  daily  walk  and  conduct, 
that  she  was  in  truth  become  "  a  new  creature  in 
Christ  Jesus."     The  second  was,  that  Mabel  had, 


374  BLIND    LILIA8. 

with  the  full  sanction  of  her  father  and  family,  be- 
come engaged  to  an  excellent  man,  a  clergyman  of 
the  Episcopal  Church  in  Scotland,  a  Mr.  Donaldson ; 
and  soon  after  her  return  home  her.  marriage  took 
place,  and  she  was,  at  the  period  at  which  we  return 
to  our  story,  quietly  settled  at  her  own  home  near 
Stirling,  and  living  and  walking  in  humble  faith  and 
active  usefulness,  without  a  thought  beyond  her  hus- 
band and  his  parish,  save  such  as  visited  her  dear 
former  home,  and  all  its  loved  inmates,  Mabel  had 
visited  the  Grange  once  since  her  marriage,  and  had 
been  half  promised  a  visit  from  her  father  before 
long,  and  there  was  also  a  hope  that  if  Maud,  who 
was  not  yet  quite  strong,  were  able,  she  and  Lilias 
would  accompany  him ;  if  not,  Lily  could  not  be 
spared  she  was  too  important  at  home. 

Everard  and  Meta  were  married  also,  and  the 
happy  occupants  of  a  cottage  not  more  than  three 
or  four  miles  from  Coombhurst,  in  a  village  of  which 
Everard  held  the  curacy.  They  had  one  little  one, 
and  Lilias  had  held  her  at  the  font.  "  Lilias  Gam- 
bier,"  she  was  called,  and  solemn  and  deep  was  the 
young  aunt's  love  for  the  infant,  for  whose  Christian 
guidance  she  had  pledged  herself  at  that  most  sacred 
ordinance.  Little  "  Lilla,"  as  she  was  called,  was 
now  about  a  year  old,  a  sweet  plaything  and  pet ; 


I 


FAMILY    CHANGES.  375 

yet,  young  as  she  was,  she  had  already  cost  her 
godmother  many  hours  of  thought,  as,  her  eyes 
closed  to  the  world  without  by  her  blindness,  she 
pondered  the  future  of  her  little  charge,  and  built 
castles  in  the  air  for  her  benetit,  and  made  weighty 
resolutions  concerning  the  part  in  her  education  that 
was  to  fall  to  her  own  share. 

Nuffent  had  returned  from  his  travels.  His  com- 
ing  had  been  long  delayed,  and  put  off  from  time 
to  time,  but  now  he  was  at  home,  and  greatly  did 
his  presence  enhance  the  happiness  of  his  father  and 
sisters.  His  old  friends,  Meta  and  Rosalie,  too, 
were  well  pleased  to  see  the  agreeable  acquaintance 
of  former  days  again,  and  Emily  and  Blanche  did 
not  fail  to  tell  him  of  their  first  meeting  with  his 
sisters,  and  their  guessing  who  they  were  by  their 
likeness  to  him.  Rosalie  was  now  a  woman  grown, 
and  a  sweet  creature  she  was,  in  mind  and  person. 
Emily  and  Lily  were  as  dear  friends  as  ever,  and 
Blanche,  now  about  eleven,  was  as  busy  with  her 
studies,  under  the  auspices  of  her  aunt  and  Rosalie, 
as  could  be  desired.  Mr.  Gambler  was  now  soon 
expected  to  return  to  Coombhurst.  His  lather  had 
very  lately  died,  and  this  event  freed  his  son  from 
the  duties  which  had  obliged  him  to  leave  his  own 


376  BLIND   LIUAS. 

parish,  and  therefore  as  soon  as  his  father's  affairs 
were  settled,  he  hoped  to  return. 

In  closing  our  summary  of  the  events  that  had 
occurred  in  the  little  circle  to  which  our  tale  belongs, 
we  must  not  omit  to  state,  that  on  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Burton,  which  took  place  when  the  little  twins  were 
about  fourteen,  and  left  them  alone  in  the  world, 
Mr.  Hope  was  induced,  at  Lily's  earnest  request,  to 
take  one  of  them  into  his  household,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  having  her  instructed  in  the  duties  of  a 
lady's-maid  under  nurse's  auspices,  Mrs.  Evelyn  at 
the  same  time  taking  the  other  into  her  household, 
with  a  similar  view,  so  that  the  children,  although 
partially  separated,  were  oflen  together,  and  were 
well  cared  for. 

They  were  both  nice  and  promising  girls,  and 
Grace,  the  one  who  was  at  the  Grange,  gave,  as  they 
all  hoped,  evidence  that  the  constant  teaching  and 
the  faithful  prayers  of  her  young  mistress  had,  by 
God's  blessing,  already  begun  to  bear  fruit,  and 
that  Christ  was  formed  in  her  young  heart.  Grace's 
love  for  Lilias  was  deep  and  unvarying.  She 
thought  and  spoke  of  her  as  one  too  good  for  earth, 
and  there  was  nothing  that  the  child  would  not  do 
to  show  her  devoted  love  to  her  young  mistress. 

And  what  was  Lilias  herself  at  fourteen  ?     She 


FAMILY    CHANGES.  377 

was  the  personification  of  health  and  vigor,  in  body, 
mind,  and  soul.  Not  beautiful ;  some  would  perhaps 
have  said,  not  pretty ;  but  though  it  might  be  so, 
there  was  something  in  her  countenance,  notwith- 
standing the  want  of  expression  in  her  eyes,  that 
was  most  winning,  and  drew  all  hearts  towards  her. 
She  had  the  same  peculiar  smile  that  so  illuminated 
the  features  of  both  her  father  and  her  eldest  broth- 
er— rapid,  gleaming  over  the  whole  countenance  in 
an  instant,  like  a  sunbeam  on  the  sea,  and  then  as 
it  were  condensing  itself  on  her  lips,  where  it  hover- 
ed long  before  it  quite  faded  away.  She  was  active, 
and  capable  of  much  exeicise,  and  a  blooming  fresh- 
ness after  walking  or  riding  showed  that  she  not 
only  bore  it  well,  but  enjoyed  it  greatly.  Her 
mind  was  full  of  well-directed,  and  well-sustained 
energy,  and  it  was  surprising  how  much  she  had 
learned  to  do,  and  how  well  and  thoroughly  she  did 
all  she  undertook.  She  had  clear,  sound  judgment, 
a  cheerful  and  lively  temperament,  and  her  temper, 
once  so  vehement,  was  now  in  such  complete  sub- 
jection, that  it  was  no  trouble  to  her  or  to  others. 
Mentally  and  spiritually  she  was  in  a  healthy  and 
sound  state,  and  there  was  nothing  morbid  about 
her. 

In  the  history  of  Lily's  life  we  have  seen,  as  it 


378  BLIND    LILIAB. 

were,  the  first  separation  from  the  block,  the  digging 
out  from  the  quarry,  and  for  a  time  we  traced,  stroke 
by  stroke,  the  work  that  was  to  transform  that  rough 
and  unhewn  block — her  natural  character — into  the 
full-formed  and  beautiful  statue  of  "  the  perfect  man" 
— "  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ." 
We  left  her  visibly  forming  into  that  image,  and  we 
shall  find  that  the  work  has  not  stood  still,  that,  chip 
by  chip,  bit  by  bit,  angularities  have  been  rounded 
off,  the  different  members  of  the  spiritual  being 
formed  and  moulded,  and  the  whole  stature,  if  not 
perfected — as  indeed  it  was  not — yet  so  matured,  so 
manifested,  that  none  could  doubt  whether  the  once 
proud,  selfish,  and  violent  Lilias  were  "  a  new  crea- 
ture in  Christ  Jesus"  or  not. 

Lilias  was  rather  reserved  than  free  in  communi" 
cation,  and  not  disposed  to  speak  much  on  spiritual 
subjects,  unless  quite  in  private,  and  to  those  who 
were  the  dearest  and  nearest,  with  whom  she  could 
hold  sweet  communion  ;  or  when  she  saw  an  oppor- 
tunity of  gently  instilling  into  the  mind  of  another 
some  of  those  holy  truths  which  were  so  precious 
to  herself  At  other  times,  and  in  society,  she  was 
the  quiet,  pleased  listener  when  sacred  subjects  were 
discussed,  but  herself  speaking  but  seldom,  and 
when   she  did,  with  girlish  timidity,  and  only   on 


FAMILY    CHANGES. 


379 


occasions  when  she  wished  some  subject  more  fully 
explained. 

She  was  the  joy  of  her  family,  and  possessed  the 
warmest  love  of  all  the  servants,  and  the  villagers, 
amongst  whom  she  was  a  great  tavorite. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  short  intervals,  dur- 
ing which  she  had  made  little  excursions  with  her 
family  to  visit  friends,  Lily  had  been  all  her  life  at 
home,  and  in  that  little  nest  were  centered  all  her 
joys,  all  her  pursuits.  Her  heart  was  overflowing 
with  love,  and  all  shared  it,  poor  and  rich,  young 
and  old ;  but  its  deepest  influences  and  afiections 
were  poured  out  on  her  father,  Maud,  and  Emily  ; 
for  both  Mabel  and  Everard,  having  their  own 
separate  interests,  dear  as  they  were  to  all,  were 
of  course  less  important  in  the  home  circle  than 
those  who  always  moved  in  it ;  and  Nugent,  who 
was  now  practising  as  a  barrister,  was  so  much 
from  home,  that  although  his  visits  were  always  a 
great  delight,  he  was  scarcely  enough  with  them 
for  his  young  sister  to  be  quite  the  same  with  him 
as  if  he  had  lived  at  Coombhurst. 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  about,  Lily  1"  said 
Emily  one  day  to  her  friend ;  "  you  have  been  sit- 
ting on  that  seat  for  the  last  hour  without  moving. 
What  have  you  in  your  mind  1"  ^ 


380  BLIND    LILIAS. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  had  been  sitting  here, 
Em  r  asked  Lily. 

"  Oh,  I  saw  you  from  the  window.  I  was  read- 
ing to  Maud,  and  did  not  like  to  stop,  or  I  should 
have  come  out."  (Emily  was  staying  a  few  days 
at  the  Grange.)  "  Come  now,  tell  me  what  you 
have  been  thinking  about." 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  building  castles  in  the  air  about 
the  future,"  replied  Lily,  smiling  ;  "  thinking  of  how 
nice  it  will  be  to  watch  over  dear  papa  as  he  gi'ows 
older,  and  being  always  with  him  and  dear  Maud — 
unless  Maud  should  marry  indeed,  which  perhaps 
she  will,  and  then  I  thhik  Coombhurst  would  be 
too  large  for  papa  and  me,  and  Nugent  will  have 
married,  and  we  must  let  him  come  and  live  here 
with  his  wife  and  all  his  little  children,  and  papa 
and  I  must  go  into  another  house  close  by — papa 
must  build  one.  Oh,  I  have  a  picture  in  my  mind 
of  such  a  pretty  cottage,  all  clothed  with  jasmines, 
and  honeysuckles,  and  roses,  and  such  sweet-scented 
flowers ;  with  thrushes,  and  all  sorts  of  singing 
birds  around  it,  and  some  bees,  and  soft  turf  to 
walk  on,  and  then  T  think  Mabel  or  Meta  will  spare 
a  nice  little  niece  to  come  and  stay  with  us,  and 
keep  us  from  feeling  lonely.  So  then  I  place  my- 
self in  fancy  on  a  garden-seat,  with  dear  papa  by 


I 


FAMILY    CHANGES.  381 

my  side,  and  the  sunshine  and  the  sweet  scents  and 
sounds  around  us,  and  this  borrowed  niece,  and 
some  nice  young  friend  with  her, — such  a  friend  as 
you  are  to  me,  Em, — walking  amongst  the  bees 
and  flowers,  and  telling  me  about  them,  and  chat- 
ting together.  Aud  then  there  will  be  kind  friends 
who  will  come  and  read  to  us,  and  nice  poor  peo- 
ple, and  little  children  for  me  to  visit  and  talk  to, 
and  have  at  our  house,  and  I  shall  have  a  singing 
class.  Oh !  I  shall  have  plenty  to  do,  and  be  so 
happy !" 

"  And  suppose  all  this  pretty  cottage  were  to  fall 
down  all  of  a  sudden  some  day,  and  some  quite 
different  kind  of  life  be  forced  upon  you  ?"  said 
Emily,  laughing. 

"  Well,  ^o  be  it,  if  it  please  God,"  replied  Lily  ; 
"  I  build  my  castles,  and  I  do  not  think  it  is  wrong 
to  do  so;  but  I  do  not  live  in  them,  Em,  so  that  if 
they  did  fall,  the  ruins  would  not  fall  on  me  and 
hurt  me.  My  castles  are  like  the  ornamental 
buildings  at  Lord  Corven's — they  look  well  from  a 
distance,  but  the  family  do  not  live  in  them  ;  and 
so,  though  they  please  the  fancy  whilst  they  stand, 
when  they  fall  they  do  no  harm,  and  are  scarcely 
missed.  I  doubt  not,  Em,  that  I  shall  have  a  happy 
home  of  some  kind  whilst  I  live,  and  then  you 


382  BLIND    LILIAS. 

know  there  is  a  mansion  prepared  for  me,  '  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,' — a  family,  of  which  I  shall 
make  one,  whose  peace  and  joy  can  never  be  inter- 
rupted." 

A  little  more  serious  and  confidential  counsel  fol- 
lowed, and  then  the  young  friends  separated.  Lilias, 
as  is  often  the  case  with  those  who  have  lively  im- 
aginations, and  are  by  any  circumstance  prevented 
from  much  communication  with  the  outer  world, 
was  much  given  to  dreaming  and  building  "  castles 
in  the  air,"  but  the  difference  between  her  past  and 
present  state  was,  that  of  old  her  castles  were  of 
the  most  dull  and  unsatisfactory  aspect,  built  under 
clouded  skies,  and  withal,  of  a  most  uncomfortable 
character,  inside  and  out,  whereas  now  they  were 
always  cheerful  and  bright,  and  full  of  all  sorts  of 
animated  and  animating  objects  ;  and  Lily  said  the 
truth  when  she  said  that  she  did  not  live  in  them. 
Of  old,  to  give  up  a  thing  that  she  had  expected 
and  reckoned  on,  a  thing  which  had  formed  the  sub- 
ject of  her  day-dreams,  without  being  exceedingly 
vexed  and  showing  very  unpleasant  traits  of  tem- 
per, was  a  thing  out  of  the  question  ;  but  now,  self 
and  its  tributaries  were  in  such  a  proper  state  of 
subordination,  that  if  anything  especially  pleasant 
came  to  pass,  she  was  joyous  and  thankful,  always 


I 


FAMILY    CHANGES.  383 

referring  it  to  the  tender  mercies  of  God  ;  and  if 
what  she  had  hoped  for  failed  her,  she  was  ready- 
to  accept  the  little  trial  cheerfully,  and  put  her 
wishes  aside,  as  if  she  had  never  formed  them. 
Lilias  had  indeed  learned,  or  nearly  learned,  the 
lesson  she  had  been  so  long  studying,  that  of  ac- 
cepting God's  will  in  all  its  parts.  Happy  and 
peaceful  state  of  mind  !  Who  would  not  rather 
feel,  "  My  God  and  Father  rules,  and  all  that  He 
does  is  right  and  full  of  love,"  and  so  be  at  rest 
even  among  billows,  than  possess  that  restless, 
eager  spirit  that  will  not  be  satisfied,  that  cries  out 
in  its  petulant  will,  "  Give,  give,  or  I  die  V 


XXXVIII. 

THE  VISIT  TO  Mi.BSL. 

kNE  happy  day  during  that  enjoyable  summer 
was  crowned  with  a  delightful  event,  which 
made  it  a  marked  day  for  ever.     It  was  the 
day  of  Mr.   Gambier's  return  to  his  home.     How 
joyous  were  the  greetings,  we  need  not  say.     He 
was  highly  gratified  at  finding  his  little  pupil  and 
friend  changed  from  the  feulty  passionate  child  into 
the  useful  valuable  girl  we  have  described — to  see 
Everard  and  Meta  with  their  sweet  child,  the  fiimily 
at  the  Cottage,  the  old  friends  in  the  parish.     All 
were  so  glad  to  see  him  returned  to  them,  and  all 
so  eager  to  welcome  him,  that  his  joy  was  really 
almost  more  than  he  could  bear.     But  the  highest 
pleasure  of  all   was  that  which  he  enjoyed   in  the 
society  of  Mr.  Hope  and  Maud,  whose  respective 
characters  had  gone  on  growing  more  and  more  in 
grace,  and  Maud's  sweet  intelligent  mind  ripening 
daily  into  higher  degrees  of  intellectual  attainment. 
She  had  always  been  beyond  her  years  in  judgment 
and  thoughtfulness,  and  now  the  long  time  that  she 


THE    VISIT    TO    MABEL.  385 

had  been  confined  to  her  couch  had  been  well  used, 
and  the  extensive  course  of  reading  which  it  had 
enabled  her  to  follow  out  under  her  father's  direc- 
tion, and  indeed  in  conjunction  with  him,  had  ma- 
tured and  ennobled  her  intellectual  powers,  so  that 
when  Mr,  Gambier  returned,  he  found  one  of  his 
greatest  pleasures  in  talking  over  his  favorite  au- 
thors with  her.  Time  then  went  pleasantly  and 
happily  onward  at  the  Grange.  Mr.  Gambier  was 
even  more  there  than  of  old.  He  conversed  and 
read  with  Maud  and  her  father,  Lily  being  usually 
a  pleased  listener,  and  not  unfrequently  able  to  join 
in  the  conversation  that  went  on.  Everard  and  Meta, 
with  their  child,  the  sweet  little  Lilla,  so  called 
to  distinguish  her  from  her  aunt  Li  lias,  were  often 
there,  and  fondly  did  Lily  love  the  little  sparkling 
child,  who  clung  to  her,  and  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  on  her  knee,  or  toddling  about  the  garden 
with  her.  She  was  a  pretty  little  brunette,  very 
slight  and  active,  and  remarkably  quick  and  for- 
ward in  speaking  and  understanding;  and  being 
the  only  child  amongst  so  many  grown-up  people, 
the  little  lady  stood  some  chance  of  being  over- 
petted,  and  made  to  think  too  much  of  her  own 
attractiveness. 

Rose  and  Emily  also  were  very  often  of  the  party, 
33 


386  BLIND    LILIAS. 

and  as  warm  a  friendship  subsisted  between  Maud 
and  Rose,  as  between  Lilias  and  Emily.  Mrs. 
Evelyn  was  not  very  fond  of  leaving  her  own  home, 
but  she  sometimes  accompanied  her  young  charges, 
and  spent  a  day  or  an  evening  in  the  society  of  Mr. 
Hope  and  his  family,  with  much  enjoyment. 

Pleasant  days  and  weeks,  and  even  months, 
passed  on.  Autunm  followed  summer,  and  winter 
came,  and  still  all  went  on  at  the  Grange  much  as 
we  have  described.  Little  Lilla  had  a  tiny  brother 
now  to  play  with  and  admire,  and  Lily,  now  past 
fifteen,  had  found  a  new  interest  and  delight  in 
spending  a  few  days  at  a  time  repeatedly  at  her 
brother's,  where  the  garden  and  shrubbery  were 
n(jw  to  her  as  well  known  as  those  at  Coombhurst, 
so  that  she  was  able  to  find  her  way  about  without 
help,  or  only  with  that  of  her  little  plaything  and 
niece.  It  was  very  amusing  to  see  the  scrap  of  a 
child  pretending  to  act  as  guide  to  her  poor  blind 
aunt.  Lily's  eyes  were  a  subject  of  concern  to 
Lilla.  When  she  first  began  to  speak,  she  would 
gently  touch  them,  and  say,  "  Eye,  eye,"  and  then 
point  to  her  own.  She  could  not,  of  course,  take 
in  the  idea  of  blindness,  and  was  constantly  calling 
on  Lilias  to  "  Look,  look,  auntie,"  and  when  told 
that  auntie  could  not  see,  the  little  creature  would 


THE    VISIT    TO    MABEL.  387 

exclaim,  "No — eye.  Auntie  Lily  not  see.  Why 
not,  auntie  1  Lilla  see  pretty  tilings.  Auntie  look, 
auntie  see  too.'' 

Poor  Lily  !  It  was  strange,  but  these  baby  re- 
marks pained  her  more  than  any  other  allusion  to 
her  blindness.  It  was  a  new  form  of  trial,  and  at 
first  she  felt  it  much,  as  almost  a  barrier  between 
her  mind  and  the  opening  intelligence  of  her  dar- 
ling little  niece.  But  as  time  passed  on,  this  little 
trouble  died  also  ;  Lilla  began  to  understand,  and 
Lily  not  to  mind,  and  as  she  had  before  felt  the 
kind  cares  that  met  her  feebleness  in  her  childhood 
act  as  a  counteracting  influence,  and  become  a  pleas- 
ure that  almost  made  her  forget  the  pain,  so  now 
she  found  in  the  increasing  love  and  tenderness  of 
the  little  one,  that  which  seemed  to  overcome  the 
new-found  sorrow.  There  was  a  sort  of  wonder- 
ing pity  in  the  baby  child's  demeanor,  that  was 
very  interesting.  Lily  said  "  the  angels  taught  it 
to  her."  However  that  may  be,  it  was  certain  that 
the  child's  love  for  her  blind  aunt,  and  her  delight 
in  being  with  her,  was  most  remarkable,  and  a 
source  of  deep  delight  to  Lilias. 

But  changes  will  and  must  pass  over  the  lairest 
scenes.  Mabel  now  urgently  claimed  her  father's 
promise  of  visiting  her.  and   bringing   both  Maud 


388  BLIND    LILIAS. 

and  Lilias,  and  it  was  decided  that  soon  they  should 
go,  and  that  Lily  should  be  left  to  pay  a  visit  ol 
some  weeks  to  her  sister.  But  before  they  started, 
a  secret  was  communicated  to  Lilias,  that  half 
turned  her  head  with  rapture  and  joy — Mr.  Gam- 
bier,  her  dear  old  friend,  whom  she  had  so  long 
loved,  was  some  day  to  be  her  brother !  He  was 
to  marry  Maud !  It  had  not  long  been  settled, 
but  it  was  now  agreed  that  their  union  should  take 
place  before  the  return  of  Christmas. 

It  was  rather  a  damper  to  her  joy  that  Maud 
would  leave  her  home,  but  then  it  was  but  to  an- 
other house  in  the  same  village,  and  they  should 
continually  meet,  and  almost  live  together.  There 
was  a  great  joy  to  Lilias  in  the  thought,  that  if  she 
had  not  overcome  her  sinful  and  foolish  determina- 
tion never  to  conquer  the  difficulties  of  her  posi- 
tion, and  had  made  no  efforts  to  learn  to  be  useful, 
she  could  certainly  never  have  become  her  father's 
housekeeper.  Had  she  been  a  burden  to  them  all, 
instead  of  a  really  useful  member  of  the  family, 
how  could  Maud  have  borne  to  leave  her  father 
with  such  an  anxious  charge  on  his  hands  ? 

Both  Mr.  Hope  and  Maud  said  this  to  her,  and 
vv'hen  Mr.  Gambier  also  said  how  glad  he  was  to 
find  that  his  little  blind  friend   was  so  capable  of 


THE    VISIT    TO    MABEL.  389 

taking  her  sister's  place  in  the  household,  so  that 
he  could  claim  his  wife  without  a  fear  that  he  was 
taking  her  from  her  duty  to  her  father,  Lily's  face 
brightened  with  joy,  and  her  heart  overflowed  with 
thankfulness  to  "  Him  who  had  enabled  her.'' 

Our  travellers'  journey  was  a  pleasant  one,  not- 
withstanding poor  Lily's  inability  to  see  the  differ- 
ent scenes  through  which  they  passed,  for  her 
father's  conversation  was  at  all  times  interesting, 
and  now  he  made  every  effort  in  his  power  to  make 
the  hours  pass  agreeably. 

It  was  his  custom  to  enter  into  conversation  with 
any  one  in  the  railroad  carriages  who  might  seem 
disposed  to  converse,  and  on  this  occasion  several 
sensible  and  agreeable  people  journeyed,  at  inter- 
vals, with  them,  and  the  scientific  and  literary  sub- 
jects discussed  afforded  much  interest  to  both  Maud 
and  Lilias,  so  that  the  way  seemed  comparatively 
short.  They  slept  at  Derby,  and  the  second  day 
reached  York,  and  so  proceeded  by  easy  stages  to 
Stirling,  where  Mabel  and  her  husband  met  them, 
and  conducted  them  to  their  village  home. 

Mabel  had  matured  into  a  most  pleasing  woman. 

Her  girlish  giddy  manner,  chastened  by  the  influ^ 

cnce  of  true  religion,  had  ])ecome  calm  and  gentle, 

and  all  the  faults  of  her  youth  had  in  a  great  meas- 

33* 


390  BLIND    LILIAS. 

ure  yielded  to  that  same  sanctifying  influence.  She 
was  as  affectionate  and  as  candid  as  before,  and  now 
proudly  displayed  her  three  sweet  children — one  of 
them  an  infant  about  four  or  five  months  old — to 
her  father  and  sister, 

"  O  Lily,  I  wish  you  could  see  my  little  Marga- 
ret," said  she ;  "  she  is  such  a  beauty." 

"  But  I  cannot,  May,"  said  Lily,  cheerfully,  "  so 
you  must  describe  her." 

'  /7Z  describe  her,  Lily,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  she 's  as  brown  a  little  gipsy  as  you  could 
fancy — dark  hair,  dark  eyes,  dark  skin,  with  a  very 
handsome  lace  cap  and  ribbons  on  her  head.  Why, 
I  thought  that  babies  wore  no  caps  now-a-days. 
May,  how  is  it  yours  is  so  gay  V 

"  She  wears  it  when  I  want  her  to  look  pretty, 
papa.  She 's  a  beauty,  Lily — you  must  not  take 
papa's  account — she  is  more  like  a  little  Spanish 
princess  than  a  gipsy,  darling  creature,"  said  the 
fond  mother,  warmly  kissing  her  babe,  and  then, 
Maud  having  sufficiently  admired  her,  she  placed 
her  in  Lily's  arms.  It  was,  indeed,  a  lovely  child, 
and  though,  as  grandpapa  had  said,  dark  as  a  little 
gipsy,  was  very  like  her  mother.  The  other  child- 
ren were  intelligent  and  engaging  little  creatures  ot 
a  year  and   a  half  and  three  years  old,  and  were 


THE    VISIT    TO    MABEL.  391 

soon  happily  seated  on  grandpapa's  knees,  the  eld- 
est chattering  away  as  flist  as  possible,  though  in 
rather  unintelligible  language,  his  infantine  pronun- 
ciation being  most  amusingly  mixed  up  with  odd 
Scotch  words  and  a  Scotch  accent  that  sounded  very 
strange  to  English  ears. 

Mr.  Hope  remained  a  fortnight  with  his  children, 
and  then,  leaving  Lily  and  her  little  maid,  Grace 
Burton,  he,  and  Maud  with  him,  proceeded  to  take 
a  somewhat  lengthened  tour  in  the  Highlands — a 
gratification  which  poor  Lily's  blindness  would  have 
prevented  her  from  enjoying. 


XXXIX. 

THE  SAD  RETURN. 

^I[>:ILIAS,  who  had  already  found  her  place  in 
^^y  the  fjimily,  soon  began  to  make  her  way 
into  the  cottages  and  form  acquaintance  with 
their  inhal)itants.  At  first,  the  broad  Scotch  dialect 
sorely  puzzled  her,  but  in  learning  her  cousin's  songs 
to  sing  to  lier  father,  she  had  already  acquired  many 
of  the  odd  words  she  now  met  with  in  general  use. 
and  an  aptitude  for  learning  languages,  together 
with  her  delicate  ear,  soon  enabled  her  to  under- 
stand the  conversations  of  the  cottars  and  their 
children.  Grace,  who  was  often  her  guide  and  com- 
panion, found  it  less  easy  to  make  out  what  was 
said  by  the  Scotch  peasants,  but  she  could  under- 
stand what  her  almost  idolized  young  mistress  said, 
though  not  what  they  replied,  and  the  young  girl 
delighted  in  going  from  house  to  house  with  Lily. 

Weeks,  and  even  months,  thus  passed  on  happily. 
Lilias  went  quietly  and  steadily  onward,  daily  ma- 
turing in  mind  and  body,  and  striving  diligently  to 
serve  God  cheerfully  and  thankfully  in  the  position 


THE    SAD    RETURN.  393 

in  which  He  had  phiced  her,  and  to  accept  the 
whole  of  His  will  concerning  her  with  a  ready  mind 
and  willing  heart.  At  lengtli  the  time  arrived  at 
which  Lilias  was  to  return  home,  and  though  sor- 
rowing to  part  with  Mabel  and  her  husband,  and  to 
leave  the  sweet  children  and  all  the  interests  which 
had  gathered  round  her,  she  nevertheless  greatly 
rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  once  more  taking  her 
place  in  the  family  circle,  and  again  seeing  her  be- 
loved father  and  sister,  and  entering  on  the  occupa- 
tions and  duties  which  she  felt  to  be  more  especially 
her  own  than  those  which  had  devolved  on  her  in 
another  place.  Lilias  had  left  her  home  in  May, 
and  now  August  was  come,  and  Maud's  marriage 
was  to  take  place  within  a  few  weeks  after  Lily's 
return,  and  she  longed  to  be  with  her  beloved  sister 
again.  Mr,  Hope  had  promised  himself  to  fetch  his 
child,  and  Maud,  it  was  probable,  would  come  with 
him. 

The  day  on  which  Mr.  Hope  and  Maud  were  ex- 
pected set  in  with  bleak  winds  and  cold  rain,  more 
like  November  than  August. 

"  How  cold  it  is,  Lily,"  remarked  Mabel ;  "  do 
not  you  think  they  M'ould  like  fires  in  the  bed- 
rooms V 

"It  is  certainly    a  very  different   climate  from 


394  BLIND    LILIAS. 

dear  Devonshire,"  answered  Lily,  "  and  after  trav- 
elling, I  should  think  they  would  be  glad  to  have 
them." 

Mabel  was  well  pleased  that  something  yet  re- 
mained for  her  to  order  and  see  to,  for  she  and  Lil- 
ias  had  exhausted  every  other  employment  that  was 
in  any  way  connected  with  the  comfort  of  the  beloved 
friends  whom  they  expected,  and  were  not  at  all 
disposed  to  sit  down  to  their  usual  occupations. 
The  village  was  a  good  way  from  any  station,  so 
that  they  had  not  the  comfort  which  in  the  present 
day  usually  attends  the  arrival  of  travellers,  that 
of  knowing  exactly  when  they  may  be  expected, 
and  consequently  they  were  continually  on  the 
watch,  and  mistaking  every  sound  for  that  of  wheels. 
It  was  getting  late,  when  at  last  a  carriage  was  seen 
approaching,  and  the  whole  family  assembled  at  the 
window  to  watch  its  pi'ogress, 

"  Why,  they  have  four  horses,  auntie,"  said  little 
Evra.  "  How  grand !  I  suppose  they  were  in 
such  a  hurry  to  get  here,  that  two  would  not  have 
come  fast  enough." 

"How  very  odd,"  said  Lily;  "I  never  knew 
pajia  travel  with  four  horses." 

"  And  there  is  no  one  looking  out  from  the  win- 
dow," said  Mabel,  as  the  carriage  drew  near  and 


THE    SAD    RETURN.  395 

then  stopped  at  the  door.  "  O  Lily  !"  added  she, 
in  a  voice  of  terror,  "  it  is  only  Williams ;  what 
can  be  the  matter  1" 

It  was  indeed  so.  Williams  only  was  in  the  car- 
riage. Mr.  Donaldson  put  back  his  wife  and  sister, 
who  would  have  hastened  out  to  the  door  with  him, 
and  went  himself  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  ser- 
vant's appearing  in  the  place  of  their  expected 
friends,  and  then  he  learned  that  Mr.  Hope  had 
been  suddenly  taken  with  very  alarming  illness  on 
the  morning  before  that  on  which  he  had  proposed 
to  leave  home. 

The  attack  had  been  of  the  most  serious  charac- 
ter, and  although  he  had  improved  a  little,  it  had 
been  decided  by  the  medical  attendants  that  Wil- 
liams had  better  be  sent  off  at  once  to  fetch  Lilias 
and  3Iabel,  as  their  father's  life  was  in  most  im- 
minent danger.  Other  messengers  had  been  des- 
patched for  Nugent  and  Everard,  and  Williams 
said  that  he  had  directed  that  the  carriage  that 
brought  him  from  the  station  should  wait  to  convey 
them  thither  to  join  the  next  train. 

In  distress  that  may  well  be  imagined,  for  Mr. 
Hope  was,  as  he  deserved  lo  be,  most  tenderly 
beloved  by  his  children,  Mabel  and  Lily  made  such 
hasty  preparations  as  llie  time  allowed,  and  as  soon 


396  BLIND    LILIAS. 

as  the  horses  had  been  refreshed,  they,  with  Wil- 
liams for  their  escort,  (Mr.  Donaldson  being  unable 
to  accompany  them,)  were  on  their  way  to  the  far 
distant  home  which  they  were  so  anxious  to  reach. 

Day  and  night  they  travelled,  and  being  in  time 
to  meet  an  express  train,  by  the  evening  of  the  next 
day  they  reached  Coombhurst. 

As  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of  the 
Grange,  Mr.  Gambler  met  them,  and  relieved  their 
minds  in  some  measure  by  telling  them  that  their 
beloved  parent  was  better,  decidedly  better,  although 
not  as  yet  to  be  considered  as  out  of  danger. 

Little  had  Lilias  imagined  when  she  left  home, 
with  what  a  comparatively  indifferent  feeling  she 
should  next  receive  the  affectionate  greeting  of  that 
dear  and  valued  friend  ;  but  now,  her  whole  heart 
occupied  with  the  one  image  of  her  perhaps  dying 
father,  she  hastily  returned  his  greeting,  and  feeling 
her  way  up  the  steps,  found  herself  in  the  arms  of 
her  brother  Nugent.  Everard,  he  said,  was  with 
their  father,  and  Maud,  who  had  been  up  all  night, 
had  gone  to  lie  down  ;  and  then  transferring  her  to 
the  loving  embrace  of  nurse,  who  waited  to  greet 
and  comfort  her  long  lost  darling,  he  went  to  re- 
ceive Mabel,  and  conduct  lier  into  the  house. 

"  Nurse,  is  he  really  better  ?"  asked  tlie  weeping 


THE    SAD    RETURN.  397 

girl ;  "  do  you  think  him  belter  ?  Do  yoti  think 
that  he  will  recover  ?" 

"  My  dear  love,  'tis  in  His  hands  that  cannot  do 
wrong.  Surely  hur's  better,  better  nor  hur  was 
yesterday  by  a  deal,  that's  sure  and  sarlain ;  but 
hur's  bad  enough  for  all  that.  There  now,  don't 
'ee  take  on  so,  ray  dear  heart,"  said  tlie  old  woman, 
sorrowfully,  as  she  observed  her  darling's  agitation  ; 
"  hur's  summat  better,  that's  plain,  for  hur  'ave  a 
tookt  in  a  few  broth  twice  to-day,  and  supped  um 
in  quite  nice,  hur  did.  'Twere  but  very  few,  but 
that's  more  than  hur  'ave  a  done  afore  since  hur 
wer  tookt.  Now,  my  dear  heart,  you  must  not  cry 
so ;  you  mustn't  do  it,  my  dear.  You  do  know 
what's  happened  is  of  God's  good  pleasure ;  and 
you  mind  how  you  used  to  say,  when  you  was  quite 
a  little  maid,  '  Nursie,  I'm  a  going  to  try  to  accept 
all  God's  will ;  not  this  i)it  and  that  ])it,  but  all 
on't ;'  and  that's  what  you'll  do  now,  Miss  Lily,  I 
know  you  will.  Papa  has  a  kept  on  axing  for  'eo 
to-and-agin,  and  you  must  keep  quiet  and  be  fit  to 
go  and  see  un  when  he  next  do  ax  for  'ee." 

So  talked  the  good  old  woman,  reflecting  back  on 

her  young  teachoi-  the   lessons  of  submission  and 

patience  that  she  had  imbiheil  from  her,  (ov  Lilias' 

example  and  holy  teaching  had  been  greatly  lilessed 

34 


398  BLIND    LILIAS. 

to  nurse  ;  and  the  little  child  whom  she  had  watched 
and  tended  from  her  motherless  infancy,  with  care 
and  love  all  but  motherly,  had  been  permitted  to 
repay  that  care  by  leading  the  soul  of  her  dear  old 
nurse  to  that  Saviour  who  was  so  precious  to  her- 
self, and  had  had  the  joy  of  seeing  her  rejoicing  in 
His  finished  w^ork,  and  looking  for  salvation  only 
to  Him. 

Nurse  had  conducted  Lilias  to  her  own  room, 
where  some  refreshment  was  brought  her.  She 
was  not  allowed  to  go  to  her  father  until  she  had 
somewhat  recovered  her  composure  and  he  had  also 
been  prepared  to  see  her ;  but  it  was  not  long 
before  Maud  was  in  her  sister's  arms,  and  both 
together  sought  Mabel,  who  was  in  the  librar^^ 
with  Nugent  and  Mr.  Gambler ;  and  here  once 
more,  all  assembled,  they  knelt  whilst  Mr.  Gambier 
returned  thanks  for  them  to  Him  who  had  lu'ought 
the  sisters  safely  through  their  journey,  and  with 
them  besought  God,  if  it  might  comport  with  His 
good  pleasure,  to  spare  their  beloved  friends  a  lit- 
tle longer  to  them. 

Calmed  and  refreshed,  they  were  now  prepared 
to  answer  the  summons  to  their  father's  bedside, 
which  soon  came.  Litias,  though  the  youngest, 
was  first  calle;!,  as  Mabel's  marriage  had  made  her 


THE    SAD    RETURN.  399 

less  one  of  the  true  home  circle,  and  Mr.  Hope 
yearned  for  his  youngest  and  long  absent  child. 
As  Lilias  approached  his  bed  and  tenderly  kissed 
him,  her  heart  so  overflowed  with  grief  that  it  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  she  restrained  herself 
from  expressing  it ;  but  she  Ivnew  tliat  her  father 
must  not  be  excited,  and  with  a  silent  prayer  for 
strength  she  sat  down  by  him,  and  was  able  calmly 
and  gently  to  speak  to  him  of  her  joui-ney  and  of 
other  topics,  and  to  subdue  the  agitation  which  had 
at  first  threatened  to  overcome  her.  IMabel  was 
then  introduced,  and  after  a  few  minutes  Maud 
called  them  both  away,  and  made  them  ix-tiris  and 
seek  some  rest  after  their  long  journey,  promising 
that  as  soon  as  they  were  sufficiently  recruited  they 
should  both  take  their  full  share  in  nursing  their 
beloved  father. 


XL. 

LILIAS  THK  NURSS  i.GMIT. 

^i  LONG  period  of  anxious  watching  fi)l]owed 
^^  the  return  of  Lilias  and  Mabel.  Mr.  Hope's 
state  was  very  precarious,  for  although  decid- 
edly better  than  he  had  been  for  the  first  few  days 
of  his  illness,  he  did  not  make  that  progress  toward 
recovery  that  his  physician  had  hoped,  and»  it  was 
considered  that  his  life  was  still  in  danger.  All, 
humanly  speaking,  seemed  to  depend  on  perfect 
quiet  of  mind  and  body. 

After  the  first  day  or  two,  a  regular  routine  was 
established,  each  of  his  daughters  taking  it  ia  turn 
to  sit  up  with  him  at  night,  a  servant  being  also  in 
attendance.  On  Lily's  nights,  nurse  always  shared 
the  watch,  as,  on  account  of  her  youth  and  her 
blindness,  she  needed  the  support  ef  the  experienced 
old  woman  more  than  either  of  her  sisters.  By  day 
one  of  the  sisters  or  brothers  was  always  close  to 
the  pillow  of  the  invalid  ;  and  never  had  father  more 
tender  nurses  than  those  whose  only  contention  it 
was  who  should  take  that  precious  and  honored  part. 


^fct_ 


LILIA8    THE    NURSE    AGAIN.  401 

But  dear  as  they  all  were,  none  soothed  his  spirit 
or  charmed  away  his  restlessness  so  much  as  his 
little  Lily  :  her  soft  calm  voice  in  repeating  passa- 
ges of  Scripture,  her  quick  appreciation  of  what 
short  text  would  be  suitable  to  his  immediate  state 
of  feeling,  and  her  wide  extent  of  Scriptural  knowl- 
edge made  her  a  most  sweet  and  useful  companion ; 
and  she  had  always  had  a  peculiar  clearness  of 
enunciation,  both  in  speaking  and  singing,  which 
made  her  words  find  more  ready  entrance  into 
his  ear,  now  a  little  deafened  from  the  results  of 
his  attack,  than  others  as  low-toned  could  have 
done. 

As  time  went  on,  and  Mr.  Hope  gained  ground, 
Lilias  became  more  and  more  her  father's  especial 
nurse  and  companion,  for  Maud,  never  very  strong, 
became  ill,  and  was  confined  to  her  bed  with  an  at- 
tack of  low  fever,  brought  on  by  the  fatigue  and 
anxiety  which  she  had  suffered  during  the  early  part 
of  her  father's  illness,  and  Mabel  took  the  place  of 
nurse  to  her. 

Everard  was  frequently  called  away  by  his  home 
and  parish  duties,  so  that  with  two  sick-rooms,  and 
fewer  helpers,  all  parties  had  their  hands  full  of 
work. 

Mr.  Gambler  was  much  with  Mr.  Hope.    He  was 
31* 


402  BLIND    LILIAS. 

as  a  son  to  him.  His  anxiety  about  Maud  was  con- 
siderable, but  she  was  not  considered  in  a  dangerous 
state.  Lilias  and  her  friend  were,  of  course,  much 
associated  in  Mr.  Hope's  room,  and  great  was  his 
wonder  and  pleasure  as  he  observed  the  easy  and 
graceful  movements  of  the  little  girl,  and  saw  how 
quietly  and  readily  she  performed  offices  without 
sight,  that  many  who  have  the  full  use  of  that  faculty 
perform  but  awkwardly,  so  that  she  was  even  more 
useful  in  her  blindness  than  many  who  have  all  their 
life  long  been  able  to  see.  This  power  of  usefulness 
he  well  knew  to  result  from  j^rinciple,  and  he  felt  the 
source  from  which  it  sprung  to  be  far  more  valuable 
tlian  even  the  230wer  itself.  He  saw  and  knew^  that 
her  activity,  her  cheerfulness,  her  grace  of  manner, 
and  her  play  of  mind,  all  sprung  from  a  heart  taught 
of  God,  and  dedicated  to  His  service — that  the  tal- 
ents He  had  given  her  were  all  devoted  to  His  glory 
and  cultivated  for  His  use.  And  the  affectionate 
pastor  daily  blessed  God,  that  the  little  one  whom 
he  so  dearly  loved — his  "  little  sister,"  as  he  now 
called  her — was  such  as  she  was. 

Lilias  had  lost  none  of  her  love  for  him — her 
"brother  Frank,"  as  she  delighted  to  call  him. 
Often  did  they  talk  over  the  peculiar  circumstances 
of  their  first   meeting;  and   not    unfrequently  the 


LILIAS    THE    NURSK    AGAIN.  403 

different  conversations  that  she  had  had  wIlIi  her 
kind  and  wise  pastor  in  times  long  gone  by,  would 
recur  to  the  mind  of  the  little  blind  girl,  as  she  sat 
and  mused  alone  or  talked  with  him  or  Maud.  She 
loved  to  look  !)ack  on  the  way  by  which  she  had 
been  led,  to  remember  the  mercies  she  had  received, 
and  often  would  she  speak  of  tlie  fits  of  passionate 
anger,  the  self-will  and  pride,  which  had  of  old  so 
sorely  tried  her  and  all  around  her,  and  wonder  at 
the  change  tiiat  grace  had  made. 

"  I  cannot  think  liow  I  could  behave  so,"  she  said 
one  day ;  "  I  do  not  now  even  feel  angry,  at  least ' 
not  often,  but  in  those  days  I  do  really  think  I  could 
have  killed  any  one  who  spoke  to  me  when  I  was  in 
a  passion.  I  used  to  stamp  and  stamp,  hoping  I 
should  stamp  in  the  floor,  and  actually  tore  my 
clothes  on  purpose  in  my  passion." 

"'  Old  things  are  passed  away,'  Lily,"  replied  he, 
" '  all  things  are  become  new.'  The  '  new  creature  in 
Christ  Jesus '  must  and  ever  will  look  back  with 
wondering  praise,  and  exclaim,  'Who  can  bring  a 
clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  ?  not  one.'  Only 
God's  Spirit  could  thus  have  wrought  in  you,  and 
blessed  be  Ilis  name  for  it." 


XLI. 

CONGLUSIOH. 

^EEKS  and  months  had  passed  away,  and 
brought  gradual  changes  to  the  family  party 
at  the  Grange.  Mr.  Hope  had  gained  much 
ground,  but  it  was  by  slow  degrees,  and  though  now 
quite  convalescent,  he  was  as  yet  only  just  able  to 
bear  a  short  drive,  or  a  turn  or  two  on  the  terrace, 
at  a  time.  He,  however,  sat  much  out  of  doors ; 
and  on  a  couch  placed  in  a  shaded  but  warm  nook, 
in  full  view  of  the  glorious  sea  and  the  lovely  scene- 
ry that  the  grounds  commanded,  he  might  be  often 
found  for  hours  together,  with  his  two  girls  close  by 
him,  Lilias  usually  busy  with  her  knitting,  and 
Maud  by  turns  reading  to  her  father  and  Lilias,  and 
working  and  talking  over  the  subject  on  which  their 
book  treated,  or  not  unfrequently  chatting  about 
those  personal  and  family  matters  which  were  at 
the  time  interesting  them.  Everard  had  been  but 
little  with  them  of  late,  Meta's  confinement  and  the 
duties  of  his  parish  having  called  for  his  almost  con- 
stant presence  at  home.     Nugent  had  returned   to 


CONCLUSION.  405 

his  professional  occupations,  and  was  now  employed 
in  the  business  of  the  circuit,  and  Vernon  and  Ed- 
ward were,  the  one  at  Oxford,  the  other  with  a 
private  tutor.  Maud's  marriage  had  been  deferred 
on  account  of  her  father's  illness,  but  Mr.  Gambier 
was  of  course  much  at  the  Grange,  and  frequently 
made  one  of  their  evening  circle. 

It  was  a  lovely  afternoon  in  June  when  Mr.  Hope 
and  his  daughters  were  seated  in  their  accustomed 
place  for  the  last  time  for  a  long  season,  for  Dr. 
Graves  had  urgently  pressed  his  patient  to  endea- 
vor to  confirm  and  strengthen  his  health  by  an  en- 
tire change  of  scene  and  air,  and  although  at  all 
times  reluctant  to  leave  home,  Mr.  Hope  had  yield- 
ed to  his  wishes.  He  thought  both  girls  would  be 
the  better  for  a  change  of  air  as  well  as  himself, 
and  it  had  been  therefore  decided  that  they  should 
visit  first  the  north  of  Devon,  and  then  cross  to 
Wales,  visit  Snowdon,  Plinlimmon,  and  other  North 
Wales  attractions,  and  return  through  Westmore- 
land and  Cumberland.  The  time  of  their  absence 
was  expected  to  extend  to  about  three  months,  and 
soon  after  their  return  Maud's  marriage  was  to  take 
place.  The  whole  party  were  rather  sorrowful  at  the 
idea  of  leaving  Coombhurst  even  for  a  short  time. 
They  all  dearly  loved  their  beautiful  home,  and  each 


406  BLIND    LILIAS. 

one  had  special  interests  amongst  the  poor,  and 
friendis  among  the  neighbors.  Lilias,  too,  had  her 
pets — her  birds  and  her  tame  squirrel,  and  her  favor- 
ite cat  and  kittens  ;  and  Maud  her  flowers,  and  other 
such  home  interests,  which  no  one  likes  to  leave ; 
and  above  all  there  were  the  darling  children,  Lilla 
and  Gambier,  and  the  little  new  baby,  whom  it  was 
very  sad  to  part  with. 

Mr.  Hope  sat  gazing  half  abstractedly  on  the 
lovely  scene  before  him — the  lights  and  shadows 
which  flitted  over  the  sea,  and  now  brightened,  now 
shadowed  the  beautiful  wood  and  rocks  that  fringed 
the  shore,  and  the  fleet  of  little  traders  and  fishing 
vessels  which  lay  ofi"  Brixham,  and  hovered  about 
the  mouth  of  the  bay. 

At  length  his  eye  fell  on  Lilias,  over  whose  ex- 
pressive countenance  flitted  lights  and  shadows  as 
changeful  as  those  which  varied  the  ocean's  surflxce. 
He  sat  watching  her  for  a  time,  Maud  being  quite 
absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts. 

"  What  is  it,  Muf?"  he  asked  after  he  had  thus 
observed  her  for  a  considerable  time. 

Lilias  started — "  What  is  what,  papa?"  she  asked. 

"  Why,  darling,"  he  replied,  "  I  meant  to  ask 
what  made  your  face  just  now  as  grave  and  still  as 
a  cloudy  sea,  and  then  flash  up   with  that  bright 


CONCLUSION. 


407 


light,  as  if  a  sunbeam  had  broken  through  and  made 
it  glow  like  a  May  morning'?  Come,  child,  tell  us 
your  thoughts,     I  am  sure  they  are  pleasant  ones." 

"  lie  has  '  led  me  by  a  way  that  I  l<new  not,' 
father,"  replied  she  after  a  pause,  and  talcing  his 
hand  and  holding  it  between  both  her  own.  "  I  have 
been  so  sad  sometimes  of  old,  father,  but  now  I  can 
say,  '  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me 
•  all  the  days  of  my  life.'  He  has  been  my  shelter, 
therefore  I  know  He  will  be  always  so,  and  I  shall 
never  be  so  sad  again." 

"  I  thank  God,  my  child,"  replied  her  father.  "  I 
have  been  sad  too  at  times  when  thinking  of  you,  my 
precious  girl ;  but  now  I  see  and  know  that  you  are 
happy,  that  you  can  accept  God's  will  and  be  satis- 
lied,  and  my  heart  is  at  rest  about  you  — God's  name 
be  praised,"  he  added  devoutly. 

"  Indeed  I  am  happy,  deiirest  father,"  said  Lily. 
"  How  can  I  be  otherwise  1  I  have  not  a  wish  un- 
grutilied,  or  a  desire  unfulfilled.  You  are  spared 
to  us,  papa — I  had  such  fears  about  you.  Now  I 
have  to  think  of  all  I  am  to  do  when  we  come 
back  ;  and  that  amuses  me  so  much,  to  plan  about 
the  housekeeping,  and  taking  Maud's  class,  and 
■walking  with  you — that  will  be  the  lame  leading 
the  blind,  and  the  blind  supporting  the  lame.    Poor 


408  BLIND    LILIAS. 

papa !  I  hope,  however,  you  will  not  be  always  lame 
though." 

Mr.  Hope  had  suffered  much  since  his  illness, 
from  some  affection  of  the  right  leg,  which  made 
him  need  support,  and  Lilias,  now  tall  and  strong, 
delighted  in  being  able  to  give  him  her  arm. 
"Lean,  father,"  she  would  say;  "you  do  not  rest 
on  me  a  bit — I  love  to  feel  you,  and  I  am  as  strong 
as  a  tower." 

"  Not  one  wish  ungratified,  my  child,"  said  her 
father  tenderly.  "  How  is  it  now,  Lilias,  about  the 
sight — can  you  indeed  quite  consent  to  God's  will 
in  that,  and  say  that  you  have  not  a  wish  concern- 
ing that  ?" 

Lilias  pondered  the  subject  deeply  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  replied  gravely  and  solemnly  : 

"  I  think,  papa,  if  I  were  once  to  let  loose  the 
rein,  and  allow  the  vain  thoughts  and  wishes  to  rise, 
that  perhaps  they  would  spring  up  and  soon  get 
strong.  But  God  helps  me  to  cast  down  those 
things  which  would  exalt  themselves,  and  bring  my 
thoughts  '  into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ,' 
and  He  keeps  me  in  '  perfect  j^eace.'  I  trust  now 
that  I  have  indeed  learned  that  '  our  fellowship  is 
with  God  and  with  His  Son  Jesus  Chi-ist  our  Lord.' " 


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